Cigarettes and Inmates
by MMagnet
Summary: One is a convicted criminal. The other is a recently graduated doctor. Within the Soul Society's prison walls, will both criminal and man begin to develop an ever evolving relationship through past crimes, present demons and future possibilities? AU, some OOC, slash/lemon, violence, profanities, etc.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

**Warnings: **AU, some OOC, slash/lemon, violence, profanity, gangs, references to drug usage, minor aspects of sexual assault and a progressive love story and prison romance between the two characters. There will also be flashbacks that will be somewhat violent and graphic.

This will revolve heavily around a prison environment. Please use your head, these types of places aren't all rainbows and sunshine.

_This first chapter is merely setting up the story for our characters so there won't be anything too dark yet._

**I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Human.

That word was extinct. Ever since his prison sentence almost five years ago, that word became meaningless. The only thing that ever truly remained human since then was the few inches buried underneath those sky blue tresses, inside his skull. It pissed him off to no end at the fact that these bastard prison officers, treated everybody confined to this maximum security hell hole – like mindless animals.

But after spending five years in the place already, that is what the blue haired man figured him and everyone else in this shit hole to ever be. They were criminals, the lowest of the low in this socially inapt society.

Scum.

But still, after those five agonizingly painful years of being watched like a hawk or stalked like a helpless woodland animal day after day. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques' pride still remained perpetually intact. He vowed to himself from the moment he was done for all those years ago – that he would not let the system break him. For better or for worse the day Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was granted his freedom from this hell, he would ultimately walk out as the same man was convicted as, a cold hearted, amoral and destructively apathetic person.

What the very system defined him to be.

A mindless animal.

* * *

It had nearly been four months. Four months since he took up the position at the Soul Society Correctional prison.

Despite his unenthusiastic and scowling demeanour, Doctor Ichigo Kurosaki felt as if this place was his calling. Ever since he was just a child, Ichigo Kurosaki had an endless need to protect.

Not just protect, save. Save anybody who needed him – Ichigo could always determine just by looking at someone's eyes whether they were in any type of pain or sadness. As the Soul Society's Warden Doctor, the orangette prison Doctor knew he had made the right choice. Despite what his friends said back home in Karakura – "Working in a prison is no place for anybody, especially like you Ichi." He recalled instantly, Ichigo aspired to do this because he felt a type of magnetism to this type of work.

In the first few months on the job at the prison, the Warden Officer – Kensei Muguruma, said that the key to success in this place was to not show any fear. Not just fear, but any type of '_weak_' emotion that the inmates could feed off.

You had to make them fear you and even though he was just a Doctor, the criminals were still violent. Ichigo like all personnel were easily prone to them especially if he turned a blind eye.

Even though Ichigo had this ability to read emotions, he'd perfected a ruthless façade that showed no mercy amongst the prisoners. The minimal security classification was no deterrence from any inmate turning violent, the confines of this place could be maddening from what he had already learnt.

The orangette Doctor was trekking down the corridor after arriving early for his shift – his standard blue coat watch indicated that it was 10:47AM.

"Hey Doc, in early today?" A voice grumbled tiredly from behind, Ichigo stopped and glanced around his right shoulder to see who it was.

"Yeah, the new inmates are coming in soon." He replied to the question, recalling that Kensei informed all of the personnel last week about a few new transfers into the Soul Society. "You didn't happen to forget did you?"

"Nah I'm just tired, finishing late today. My shift's got a bit messed up due to the new piss ants arrivin' soon." Renji responded sluggishly, his eyes and voice lidded with traces of sleep.

Renji Abarai was one of the first people Ichigo warmed up to in this place and one of the main reasons he got along with the guy so well, was because of his vibrant crimson like red hair and dark tribal tattoos. Like the Doctor's hair, Renji's had the uncanny ability to also stand out in a crowd.

Renji was 27 years old and had been a guard here for almost four years. He knew the ins and outs of the prison from the back of his hand.

The tattooed man was a rough and tough guy in here, the orangette Doctor often noticed he was crude towards most of the inmates. That was the only thing Ichigo disliked about him, but due to his dynamic personality and often playful banter they shared at times – he mostly got along quite well with the red haired giant.

"S'been a dead long morning Ichi" Renji said with a yawn, stretching his arms upwards. Tension could always run high in this place especially since the inmates could become rowdy at any time.

To work in a prison meant you had to adjust your entire body clock as a prison guard, it was shift work at its finest. Being one of only two doctors at the Soul Society, along with Doctor Retsu Unohana – both Ichigo and her were on call if needed all hours of the day, every day. Ichigo considered his position tough work, but enjoyed the challenge it bought.

"Well I can't stay and chat for much longer Ren." Ichigo said facing back towards the corridor, he glanced down the almost dimly lit walkway. "I got a lot to do today and Kensei's been on my ass about these new inmates for almost a week now and I really need to get this stuff sorted. Cya!"

Walking off into the corridor, Renji's voice picked up behind him. "Yeah, sure. I guess we'll talk soon Ichi!" he said glumly from behind, Ichigo guessed it was because the tattooed prison office wasn't getting much of a chat out of him.

The rustic surfaces of the cement corridors echoed his foot steps as Ichigo headed towards the stairs that lead to up the Doctor's station, located on the second level of the compound. The prison itself was separated into various sections and broken up into two buildings.

In the main building, the ground floor was the mess hall of sorts. It was where the prisoners came to eat in the canteen, and on the far end of the floor were sets of stairs connecting to the upper level of the ground floor. The cells were located here. Further down from the cells were the shower rooms, the main building was a rather large considering it was a refurbished war prison from World War II. The second floor was the Guard's and Doctor's station and this is where Ichigo worked from; connected at the entrance of the main building, the Doctor's station backed onto the Guard's station and the orangette was walking there now.

Isolation was located above this on the third floor.

The second building was relatively new. Being located in front of the prison itself, both the Administration and Warden's floor were separated due to the Soul Society's security classification. The ground floor held the administration offices into the Soul Society, a _gateway_ to the prison. Above that was the Warden's floor, this was where the Warden Officer Kensei – usually worked from.

The court yards were to the left of this, various guards were often stationed from 12:00PM to 4:00PM _during prisoner release_.

Ichigo made his way up the cobbled stairwell towards the Doctor's station. Being the only Doctor left on shift for the rest of the week, he unlocked the familiar white door. A sterile sanitary scent assaulted the orangette's senses.

White walls lit up when Ichigo turned the lights on, bringing the station to life. He had somewhat of a long day ahead of him due to the new transfers coming in and he hadn't found the time to fully preview their files yet. However Ichigo knew that there was a good four or so people being sent in from various prisons around the region.

This meant that the Doctor had to prepare for their admission check-ups, blood tests, urine samples.

The works.

It could often be a lengthy process and depended on the cooperation of the inmates. Kensei usually had a guard or two stationed in or outside the room depending on the prisoner's behaviour. This _protection_ gave Ichigo some reassurance while he did the testing. It wasn't as if he couldn't defend himself though, it was just easier to let the prison officers deal with it if things became explosive.

With a sigh, Ichigo snaked his hand through his orange locks and shook them from side to side.

"Better get started then."

* * *

Doctor Kurosaki had been preparing for the inmate's arrival for some time now, his blue coat watch had just rolled over to 12:30PM. Ichigo's stomach was growling in a painful hunger and there was no time to eat since his short lived breakfast at 8:00AM, earlier this morning.

After taking nearly two hours to assemble syringes, specimen jars, cloths, trays and sanitizers. The Doctor had promptly finished the set up for the inmate's arrival in one hour's time.

Another hungered rumble sounded from his stomach. "Shit, probably working without lunch again." He said in a low defeated tone of voice, a rasp knock sounded from the door. Looking up, Ichigo began to pace his way over.

The knock became increasingly louder – the person on the other end was being impatient. "Kurosaki, open the hell up."

With a shove on the door handle, he swung it back towards himself. The Doctor took note of the large muscular male in front of him, silvery white hair gelled and messed up into an unruly amount of spikes.

"What do you want Kensei?" He asked.

"Just stopped by to remind ya that the inmates will probably be here in a short while. You taken the time to actually set up yet?" The Warden spoke in that underlying gruff baritone.

This would probably be the third or fourth time that Ichigo had mentally counted Kensei being on his case about it. The man always took his work seriously and was never one to actually be taken as a fool when it came to the fundamentals of the prison. Renji had told Ichigo that the Kensei was a former military drill sergeant back in his day. The white haired prison warden was always straight to the point, Ichigo admired this man for those reasons.

"Yeah first thing I did when I actually got up here. Don't worry, we're almost good to go." Ichigo said reassuringly, he didn't want to go through another lecture from Kensei again. The orangette figured he'd been working here long enough to understand the procedures of the place, Doctor Unohana was a very helpful tutor.

Ichigo noticed the larger man before him quickly scan around the Doctor's station with those hawkish brown eyes, they flashed side to side.

"Right! Have ya taken the time to actually look over the files yet? We've got some rough one's coming in, an ex gang lord and a man convicted of aggravated sexual assault. Both of them have been transferred here due to the conditions of their sentencing, ya think you're gonna be okay?"

If it was one thing, the man was always mindful of his personnel working under him at the prison. It made the place somewhat safer when Ichigo knew the higher ups were actually looking out for everyone.

_Including_ the inmates at times.

With a nod and a low key yes, Kensei thanked Ichigo and walked off. '_Better get a move on with those records then._'

Closing the door behind him, the Doctor walked over to the desk propped in the corner. The station wasn't relatively big and the room itself was cubic with a bathroom connected through a doorway on the left wall. The room was also separated by a curtain divider in which the bed rests and testing area was located. Other than that, there were drawers and shelves poised all around the room holding various medical paraphernalia and work implements.

All shelves and cupboards were locked by a key for extra precaution.

Moving over to the desk, Ichigo sifted through the various sheets of paper until he came across the folder labelled '_transferees'._ Opening it up, the first thing that caught his attention were the names of some of the arrivals.

"Vega Ggio, Ogichi Shirosaki and Jaegerjaques Grimmjow." He read out, mentally concluding that all but one of these names were obviously foreign and not to mention quite a mouthful to think about, let alone to say.

"Vega, Ggio. Aged 24, charged for armed robbery and assault." He continued reading aloud, it was nothing too dire – a common occurrence amongst most of the inmates in the Soul Society prison.

However, the criminal record of the next man caught his eye. "Ogichi, Shirosaki." The orange haired Doctor said with a shuddering chill to the name. Ichigo took note of the man's pale complexion in the photo provided; demonic black sclera and piercing golden eyes with a marble white figure and snow dyed hair. The man, despite him being albino – looked like a true night terror, something you'd find in a childhood nightmare. The orangette stopped and thought for a second, this name sounded familiar.

"Ogichi, Shirosaki. Aged 29, was charged for aggravated sexual assault against a female victim five years ago. Shirosaki, commonly referred to as Shiro – is serving a six year sentence for his conviction and due to the conditions of his sentencing and is being moved to minimal security prison as a result of the 'good behaviour bond' assigned during the sentencing procedure."

Ichigo's head shot up to the window at the other end of the room. He knew of this man, Shirosaki, he was charged for rape when Ichigo was in his second year of medical studies. The man claimed he was set up on the news, no one believed him due to his mundane record of being violent.

'_Seems like this man is the monster everybody claimed him to be…_' He said to himself in deep thought, scanning over the rest of the file including his medical details. The Doctor turned the page over.

"Jaegerjaques – Grimmjow." Ichigo read out from the file again, the name combined with the picture to the right held more of a deafening weight over him. More so than any other prisoner he'd ever been in contact with.

Sharp facial features, leering sapphire eyes and an unremorseful grin, he looked about 23 or 24 at the time of when the photo was actually taken. If a picture could tell a thousand words, it was quite clear in that moment that Ichigo truly recognized the danger this man could posses.

His eyes followed along the typed writing. "Jaegerjaques – Grimmjow, ex Espada gang-lord, currently aged 28. Up until the second year of his sentence, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was one of the most violent and volatile criminals within custody. The man being the Sexta Espada of wanted criminal Sosuke Aizen's crime organization – was previously charged for offences such as: Violent assault, drug offences, battery, homicide, obstruction of justice, pyrotechnics and organized crime. It was rumoured that this man had also murdered various people in cold blood due to the nature of the gang 'the Hollows'."

Ichigo stopped and contemplated for a moment. '_This man, dubbed to be the most violent gang criminal was being moved from his maximum security prison into a low key prison? Soul Society of all places?_'

"Upon arrest, Grimmjow pleaded guilty to the lesser charges of his crime. Despite having a murder conviction against his name, no actual evidence was substantially presented to convict him otherwise. Grimmjow was sentenced to six years imprisonment for these offences and was awarded conditional parole if the man could agree to the terms of rehabilitation and counselling within prison. Grimmjow was to spend the second last year of his conviction in a low key prison before the conditions of parole were awarded." Ichigo read, feeling partially informed of the criminal Grimmjow.

The orangette Doctor for the most part, was overshadowed. '_A man this dangerous was being transferred due to being guilty on charge? It seems a little corrupt for what he was accused of._'

Continuing down the file, Ichigo took note of the blue haired criminal's medical history.

"During the first year of imprisonment, Grimmjow was rehabilitated for a cocaine addiction. The man hasn't suffered any previous terminal affects of the drug, however went into physical and emotional withdrawals for some time. The man has been in varying conditions of health due to the first few years of rough prison housing – however the prisoner is currently on a clean bill of health."

The orange haired Doctor sighed again. '_At least this makes things a little easier to work with._' He concluded positively.

The two prisoners; 'Shiro' and 'Grimmjow' – seemed dangerous. From just their profiles, both of them seemed animalistic and ruthless. It distilled a sense of instinctual worry inside of Ichigo. He'd never truly feared a person before, but the current thought of these two men sent deathly chills rippling throughout his body.

It seemed as if he was going to have a particularly interesting day ahead of him.

* * *

The first prisoner, Ggio, was somewhat difficult, Renji said the man hadn't spoken to anyone upon his arrival. Motioning him from the seat near Renji, Ichigo noticed the man to be somewhat aggressive in a silent way. He refused to speak to anyone, so the orange haired Doctor was somewhat confused as to whether he should approach the man with a needle to draw his blood– in fear he could become enraged.

"Ggio." Ichigo said somewhat brokenly, the prisoner continued to stare at the floor – shifting nervously on the seat. "I am going to take your blood now, could you please hold out your arm?"

The man responded very badly to that, chucking a fit and firing profanities off at Ichigo. "At least he's finally talking." Renji boomed from behind, pulling past the curtain divider to restrain the violently tempered man. It wasn't unusual for a guard to hold a criminal down if they started an uproar, with Renji's strength and the man's smaller form – the red head had no trouble restraining him at all.

It took another thirty minutes to actually calm the prisoner down enough to proceed onto further testing. After forceful kicks, thrashes and struggling – Ggio gave up his loosing battle.

Sending him out with an officer escort, Renji began to coax his orange haired friend. "Seem a little stressed Ichi, not having too much trouble are ya?"

After that performance, Ichigo wasn't in the mood for any more shit especially when it came from Renji. It was stressful enough dealing with some inmates, then to have the tattooed dick goad him.

"Fuck off, you try taking blood from a patient who is thrashing around. Send in the next one." Ichigo demanded harshly.

"Yeah, whatever." He smiled. "The next one looks like hell by the way, already hate 'im"

After Renji walked off closing the divider behind him, Ichigo observed a leaner more slender silhouette walking towards him. The curtain made a rattle as it was swung to the side by a pale arm.

"Well, what do we have 'ere?" A voice protruded almost demoniacally. It sent ice prickling shivers down Ichigo's spine, he knew this to be the rapist 'Shiro'. Gazing upwards, the orangette Doctor took in the man's deathly complex. In person, Shirosaki Ogichi did truly look like hell – the man radiated a dangerous aura, like he would cut loose at any second.

"Name's Doctor Kurosaki. Take a seat please." Ichigo said with a sense of caution in his tone.

"Aw, loosen up Doc. Seems like yer a lil' angsty from the guy before. I promise ta be on my best behaviour. " The pale criminal said almost excitedly, he probably got a kick out of the struggle.

Some of these men were simply inhuman. At first glance though, the man seemed artificially savage. Ichigo tried to pay half a mind to his crippling form.

"Alright, we're going to start with a blood test." He said, pulling a clean syringe from the drawer praying to God that Shiro would stick to his word and co-operate. The pale man outstretched his right arm, turning it over so Ichigo could get a better angle at his vein. Grabbing the leather strap, Ichigo wrapped it around the joint between his arm and elbow, bulging the vein out for easier access.

"I'll try to make it painless alright?" He reassured the inmate.

"Sure, I believe ya." The man said, piercing gold eyes and wide grin bore into Ichigo's thoughts. He shuddered a little, the man was even more disconcerting up close. "Though I might have ta hurt ya back if ya lie to me."

Ichigo's stifled his movements, the man looked completely serious. Shaking off the current feeling of anxiety, Shiro's grin widened.

The Doctor couldn't make heads of tails of this, so he proceeded in caution of the man's words – trying to make it as painless as possible.

Moving the needle down onto the man's vein, the albino flinched a bit. Ichigo pushed in as gently with caution Drawing the rustic liquid with ease, he extracted the needle and set it down on the tray. "Looks like I won' have ta punish ya at all, nice work Doc!"

Ichigo was left relieved yet, still a little off balance from the albino prisoner's words. So much for not letting the prisoner's get to him.

With a sharp intake of breathe, the orange haired doctor began handing the specimen jar to the albino. "Take this in there, I'm sure you know what to do." He ordered with a simple gesture to the bathroom.

"What, you wan' me to jack off in it or somethin'?" The albino question with a serious look on his face – Ichigo was taken aback at the pale man's lack of shame.

Exhaling an agitated sigh, Ichigo began to call for Renji. Cut off by the albino man shooting up and stalking over to the bathroom – he coaxed from the doorway. "N'aw, don't worry. Just messin' with ya, you're an easy Doc to wind up ya know?" His voice rang childishly, drowning out to the slight slam of the bathroom door.

Ichigo stopped in reflection, waiting for the man to finish his business. He was a convicted criminal and death defiantly heart stopping, in a very negative way. He couldn't afford to let these overwhelming feelings get to him. It was the first time after all the he'd truly ever treated a criminal of this calibre.

After the pale man Shiro was whisked off by the prisoner guard escort, he had one patient left. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

Looking over the man's file again, the orange haired Doctor didn't quite know what to expect. The man was coined highly dangerous and violent, those eyes from the picture he was provided with seemed distant, cold and clouded. It extracted a lot of fear from Ichigo.

He was called for by Renji. The man's shadow was quite large, the record didn't indicate his height, if the Doctor was to make a guess from the silhouette he could see – Grimmjow was probably 6'3" or 6'4" tall.

Massive for a regular guy.

A pastel tanned hand pulled back the curtain divider, Renji had warned him few hours earlier about this particular inmate. According to what Kensei had said, he could be highly aggressive if his buttons were pushed, snapping out of control at anybody – Ichigo definitely didn't want any trouble or violence.

He began to take note of the prisoner's features; the man was wearing a worn black tank top, exposing large tanned biceps, broad shoulders and a tall figure. Ichigo felt quite intimidated, especially by those imprisoning deep sapphire blue orbs and sky blue hair. He wore torn grey slacks and tattered shoes that looked like they'd gone through hell and back, twice.

At this point, the orange haired Doctor felt a sense of true fear. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques would definitely hold a candle to the old saying if '_looks could kill_'. His entire form was ungodly animalistic.

The blue haired inmate walked towards the chair a few centimetres in front of him, with a sense of pride the prisoner coasted downwards. Ichigo got the feeling this man felt no true remorse.

With a sigh and half assed attempt to negate the obvious fear in his emotions, Ichigo decided to get this show on the road – it was already 3:00PM. This was taking much longer than he originally planned.

The atmosphere between the criminal and doctor was filled with a foreboding sense of faint-heartedness.

"Name's Doctor Kurosaki, how are you?" Ichigo tried to break the ice.

The blunette inmate slowly made eye contact with orangette doctor who was leaning over a steel stray. He felt his entire body tremble from the man's predatory movements . It was one thing to read up on a criminal, but to stand in the very room of a highly dangerous one with leering frigid eyes stirred deep feelings of anxiety from Ichigo.

"Name's Grimmjow fucking Jaegerjaques." He said with a petrifying deep voice, flashing a callous smirk. The orange haired Doctor was completely frozen in primordial fear. Ichigo felt the atmosphere darken around him.

"I'm gonna give it to ya straight Doc. Hurt me and I will break every bone in your fuckin' body." He threatened with an animalistic temperament, the man seemed true enough to his word.

* * *

**This is another long running idea I've had for awhile. A prison romance is one thing I haven't ever read on this site, review and tell me what you think!**

**I hope you enjoyed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

**What a great response for just the first Chapter, thank you to all who read, followed, reviewed and made this a ****favourite!**

**Time to pick up from where we left off! Keep in mind that Grimmjow is an unremorseful criminal and the chapters from now will gradually get darker.**

* * *

He took note of how the Doctor gawked at him after that. Maintaining that callous smirk, the blue haired inmate had already struck fear into his heart.

That was the great thing about being considered a criminally insane animal for Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, no one would ever fuck with you if you meant business. His deathly guttural voice of his would always scream at the back of innocent mind's, reminding their inner conscious not to provoke the barbarity of a predator.

Being an enigma amongst the other inmates from his previous prison, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques always walked with a sense of disdain amongst his reformatory. Constantly under the watchful eye of prison officer's venturing orbs that followed his path, leaving a trail of lingering pity in his wake.

Repenting was bullshit to Grimmjow – the past was the past to him.

The inmate had his own scars like everyone else. For all it was worth, he never regretted a single thing that moulded him into the untamed, uncouth fiend he was labelled as today. Nobody could understand the inner workings of his mentality, the things that truly fucked him up.

They wouldn't now and they _definitely_ wouldn't ever.

Watching the Doctor shift a little, Grimmjow sensed from the moment the medic laid eyes on him, that the Doctor's own inner voice was shrieking from within. The man obviously connected the dots from when Grimmjow spoke, the blue haired inmate would always remain true to his word. Grimmjow was vicious and would ultimately crush and grind all two hundred and six bones the Doctor had into a fine, thin white powder and consecrate his lifeless corpse with it.

That is if he was _provoked_.

The Doctor's movements were wary, his back was stiffened into a salute. Grimmjow let his frigid blue eyes leer over the man's face, the Doctor looked petite and relatively young. Grimmjow could easily flatten the man like road kill if it come to that.

He'd already been in custody for four years now, if he had to – it would be worthwhile to break the conditions of parole just to see the man's eyes dilate in anguish. The thrill of making him scream out in endless agony, letting him know Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a destructive force.

"A-alright then, so I'm Doctor Kurosaki and I'll be taking your physical now." He squeaked out in cowardice, the blunette prisoner erased that spectral smirk off his features – evidently pissed at the repetition in the medic's tone.

From as long as he could remember, he hated being told twice. Twice to do something and twice hearing something, it was one thing that always boiled his blood. The inmate wasn't dumb, he just didn't care for meaningless words. If he wanted to go and do something, he would – it was simple really. But to be told twice, especially when the person telling you set's their record on an annoying loop, was extremely unbearable.

Letting out a harsh grunt, Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. "You fucking said that already, hurry the fuck up and get this over with." Dropping the end of the sentence with a growl, the blunette's anger seeped into his system. Five minutes in this place and Grimmjow wanted to punch someone's lights out. The Doctor seemed like the best option at this point, he didn't care for the consequences that would follow.

Doctor Kurosaki moved towards Grimmjow who was cemented to the seat. He looked overbearingly cautious, Grimmjow warned him before though; if he hurt him in any way he'd beat the man bloody and dry. Those frigid eyes never left the orangette's form, watching every movement like pray being stalked from the shadows. The man pulled out a leather strap from steel platelet, hands slightly quivering in coercion.

Stopping beside Grimmjow's right arm, he snapped the strap into a horizontal line and strained the band. The Doctor slouched over the inmate, placing his slender arm on top of his shoulder. Grimmjow flinched at the cool contact, he didn't know what in the fuck he thought he was doing. Nobody touched him like this.

Grimmjow blustered while shoving the man's arm off. "What the fuck do ya think yer doing?" He demanded sternly, the Doctor paused and slowly tilted his head to look at the floor. Backing off a bit, the orangette's words mumbled in time with his actions – picking up a syringe from the platelet. "It's p-procedure to do a routine blood test on ad-admission."

Doctor Kurosaki was still vastly intimidated by the criminal at this point, he truly was dangerous and predatory. It freaked the Doctor to get any closer let alone draw blood from someone as volatile as Grimmjow.

The Doctor trailed back around, Grimmjow took sight of the syringe and dilated his eyes. The inmate's inner panic set in."Hold out your arm so I can –"

Words were cut off by a violent tug down Ichigo's right arm. With the needle still in hand, Doctor Kurosaki was forcibly pushed back by a large, calloused right hand. Grimmjow was grasping the base of his throat, the air restricted tightly as his muscles tensed in shock. The orangette's upper back made contact with the shelf and sink behind him.

"You fuckin' drop that thing right NOW!" He roared at Ichigo's face, furious hot breathe assaulted his façade. Doctor Kurosaki was held in submission and grunting in agony, the inmate had turned rapidly aggressive at the most unexpected thing.

"A-unggh!" The orangette cried out in pain, dropping the needle to the ground – he aimlessly attempted to pry the criminal's arms off his throat. Grimmjow could see the struggle in his eyes, for a man who hated the way people looked at him, This was one look he definitely enjoyed.

The look of pure helplessness in the eyes of a victim.

Exhilarating.

"I told you to back the fuck off."

Ichigo struggled for his very life, trying to relinquish the iron cast grip clamping around his oesophagus, salty tears trickled violently down his cheeks. "_Stoooop_! _Re-njiiiiiii_!" He rasped out breathlessly.

Grimmjow's solid gauntlet never relented.

Ear's perking up at the Doctor's lifeless struggle, Grimmjow had forgotten about the red headed prison officer stationed at the other end of the divider. He tightened his grip, blue veins bulging out from his sinewy right arm. Before he could completely throttle the Doctor, Grimmjow's left shoulder came in contact with a forcible fist. It shoved him off in aggressive momentum and buckled the blue haired inmate backwards.

"Just what'n the hell do ya think you're doing? Go'n get Ikkaku!" Renji screamed out to another officer, trying to fend the berserk inmate off.

The enraged blunette wanted to savagely beat both of them. He hated those sharp pin prick implements the Doctor wanted to jab it into his body thinking that he was made of steel. The red head also challenged him.

Wordlessly, the volatile criminal hunched his weight around to face Renji. Hurried footsteps came pounding into the Doctor's station, Grimmjow wanted blood.

With a swipe of his right fist and grinding his teeth with a burning rage, the blunette aimed his clenched fist at the prison officer's face – he dodged.

Two hands imprisoned him in a bear hug from behind.

More contact fuelled the blue haired animal's temperament. Viciously thrashing amongst the solid stone grasp, a bald headed man swung his fist downwards onto Grimmjow's shoulder – he whelped at the brunt of pain.

Unexpectedly falling to the floor, Grimmjow thought he could take the man's hit. Kicked over onto his back, the red haired prison officer pulled out two silver cuffs out, the chains rustled loudly amongst the commotion. Arm's being forced behind his back whilst being held firmly into a submissive stupor, Grimmjow tried to kick out.

All the while Ichigo was looking into Grimmjow's own eyes, the viciously pulsing deep blue pearls roared bitterness. Grimmjow was struggling on the floor, huffing out large gapes of breath. Trying to fight a losing battle – he refused defeat.

"Fuckin' pricks, get the fuck off me. FUCK!"

Roaring out, the inmate struggled on the floor. The weight of the guards restraining both of his arms and legs, Grimmjow shot his head up at the orange haired Doctor who was staring coldly at his own depths.

He despised that unexplainable look he saw.

* * *

_**Osaka Japan, 16 years earlier.**_

"_You're not fucking leaving!" A banshee like female voice shrieked from the other room. "You can't fucking leave. Stay with me." She cried, pleading for him to not go. She always claimed she loved him but it was a semblance. A well constructed lie that she always devised to hide the obvious truth._

"_I'm leaving and that's final."_

"_NO! Please don't go." She slumped to the floor pathetically, she usually got her way with him when she threw herself around like a rag doll, in a childish tantrum. This usually happened every fort night, she would sleep around on the weekdays while he worked his ass off for the family of three._

_He was a true father, graciously rough around the edges yet the most hard working man on the face of the planet._

_She was a whore and not to mention an alcoholic. She would have sex while he worked the mines at Hokkaido. She did nothing for him, or their only child. It could be considered a sad life for both father and son. Every two weeks when he came back to her from his home stay, she was either passed out on the couch with a bottle of American Bourbon clenched tightly in her hands, cradling it like the very child she neglected. Or passed out in a back street alley somewhere._

_Their only child, a twelve year old cotton candy blue haired boy was exposed to the rough lifestyle of a broken family. It had been a fragmented life for Grimmjow since the age of eight. Rarely ever seeing the man he loved and never seeing the woman she should be, the blue haired child listened attentively from his bedroom door._

_Tear's staining his face, the woman was always a callous bitch to his father. Only ever cared for herself, the stout child practically raised himself in his father's working absence. _

_He'd always been self reliant during the fortnight in between his father's only weekend visits. Grimmjow cooked, cleaned and bathed himself. His mother disregarded him, she always said Grimmjow was the reason they were in this mess. The pre-teen child never truly understood what she meant, but it scratched like glass from inside his chest every time she flicked her serpentine tongue._

_A bottle was thrown. The shrill shattering of glass screeched through Grimmjow's bedroom, the boy tensed up – fisting into his side. More tears welled up in his sockets, falling freely to the ground ailing his pain._

"_I TOLD YOU TO GET OFF OF ME, I'M TAKING HIM AND THAT'S FINAL!" He roared, the man could be scary when he wanted to. Never to the son he loved and fought for. But the closeness they shared was distanced by that same plane ticket every Monday fortnight. _

"_NO, YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIM. HE IS MY CHILD YOU WILL NOT FUCKING LEAVE!"_

_Another bottle shattered amongst the foreboding silence, she clawed at the man's torso. "I'M LEAVING HERE AND WHEN I COME BACK TOMORROW FOR HIM, I WILL BE TAKING HIM."_

_He stormed out, slamming the door with a booming wallop. The blue haired boy bolted to his bed, dunking under the covers. He chanted under his breath in a manic hope that the grey Star Wars quilt, would protect him from his mother's drunken brawl. _

_Another slunk to the floor, he could hear the woman wail through his darkened bedroom walls. That was the third time he cried himself to sleep at night, during the past week._

_Day broke, his mother was absent. He nudged the painful memories of last night out of his head. Still echoing at the back of his mind, corroding the brightness that the new day bought – he showered, ate one piece of toast and put on some clothes. The bright morning light shone through the windows, the household felt oddly warm for its usual rigid environment._

_For awhile now he never ate a proper breakfast, or any meal… His appetite was always suppressed by a foul drunken odour that lingered within the living room._

_Grimmjow often paled at the smell of it. He prayed the events from last night were all a dream, but the fragmented glass that lie under the family portrait reflected the memories like a mirror._

_His father never came back for him that day._

_A week passed by, he hid away in his room – sleeping off the unwelcoming sensation of loneliness, hurt and despair. It never once crossed his mind that a child wasn't suppose to feel like this._

_He hadn't been to school in almost a week, his mother's drunken antics grew increasingly more violent._

_Grimmjow's mother confronted him one morning. "Just why the hell aren't you at school?" She slurred, completely intoxicated. Foul breath rotting his senses, the boy's stomach churned violently._

"_I… I don't feel well." He said glumly, he always feared this woman in a hateful way. Her love was about as real as the tooth fairy._

"_I don't fucking feel well either." She chided, slapping him backwards to the wooden floor. Some day's he learnt to accept the pain, other's it was overwhelming. "You think that you're the only one suffering boy? Here's a news flash for ya, he left because of you!" She spat at him, Grimmjow broke out into tears._

"_You're an ungrateful BRAT." She screeched in her drunken timbre, Grimmjow picked himself up only to have a white hot pain make contact with his face._

"_You hear me? HE. LEFT. BECAUSE. OF. YOU!" She screamed, repeating with more violence. It made him feel responsible for his father's absence, he was a convicted criminal in his own home. To Grimmjow's mother, he was nothing but the dirt beneath her own two feet. Stomping all over the once happy Grimmjow. He soon began to question the days where he would once giggle from a top of his father, who would often piggy back him around the front yard._

_Whatever happened to those days that were long gone?_

_Whimpering from the floor, he slowly got up again and ran out. He couldn't take it today. His heart fell into a deep darkness, his own father never returned for him and his mother grew increasingly malevolent. The burning hope that raged on every day for his father's return, smouldered._

_It had been three weeks by then, there was no rescue. He hadn't been to school in that time, he felt trapped in his own, very real hell. Slowly wasting away._

_Mindlessly walking along the back streets of the Osaka western suburbs, Grimmjow made his way to a nearby park. Shoeless. Feet blistered from the walk, the green landscape was vacant, he noticed a large tree with large bushes in front of it. Making his way over to the lonesome stoic tree, with the noon sunlight hanging overhead. Grimmjow curled up helplessly into a ball and cried._

_Some time passed, it felt like an hour. Grimmjow listened in on footsteps approaching him. There was a tall lanky haired kid looking over the bushes at him. "What're ya doin' down there?" He questioned from above, that rough voice broke the deafening silence. He sounded a lot older than the blue haired boy himself._

_The boy slouched his head back into his arms and ignored him. He didn't feel like talking._

"_Not'a talker are ya? Everythin' okay?" He asked, the black haired teenager sounded concerned for him. The blue haired boy just shook his head from beneath his stupor. _

_He was crouched in that spot for a few more minutes, silence echoed between the two. The lanky teen peeled past the bushes and sat down next to him, leaning his tall form up against the tree to rest comfortably with Grimmjow. "Name's Nnoitora. Nice ta meet ya."_

_The blue haired boy didn't speak, he just stared back up with tear stained, red raw eyes. He'd been crying for a good hour now. No more tears to waste._

"_Ya don't look so well. Everythin' okay?" He questioned again, Grimmjow couldn't tell if he was truly concerned or just curious._

_The blue haired kid just grunted back, signalling a weak yes. He didn't want to speak at the moment, though the other teen's pressuring questions were actually comforting._

"_If ya not gonna talk, we can jus' sit. But I'ma go an' get somethin' that will cheer us both up. Stick aroun'." He said with a grin, the boy was confused by what he meant. He watched Nnoitora stride through the bushes again, moving out of sight. Nothing but the black birds could be heard, chirping from amongst the trees. Grimmjow sniffled a little._

_Minutes wandered aimlessly by, the tear wrung kid began pulling at the grass. The last few weeks or so had always been like this, unhappiness. It made Grimmjow feel lonely without his father, but it split him right through the heart knowing he vanished from his life. Failing to rescue him._

_The painful thoughts of his mother's alcoholically induced rages were burnt into his skull. He shuddered. _

_The black haired teen, 'Nnoitora' returned all too quickly. Strolling back over to the tree, arms haphazardly moving in motion with his stride – Grimmjow looked up at him with a confused expression._

"_Told'ya I'd return. Anyway, seems as if you need some cheerin' up." He said again for the second time. It created a bad taste in his mouth, the repetition again reminded him of his mother. _

_Nnoitora slid down to the sturdy tree, supporting his back against it. He reached down into his baggy blue jeans and pulled out a plastic bag._

_Grimmjow took note of his smile, he didn't understand why he looked so happy. "I prepared this for us. Wanna try?" Nnoitora asked lazily, he pulled a thick, white tightly rolled piece of paper out of the plastic. _

_The blunette child observed, he didn't know what it was. It looked like rolled up paper. Nnoitora began to fish into his jeans again, pulling out some matches. Grimmjow was slightly intrigued by what he was seeing, he finally decided speak. _

"_What is it?" He sniffed loudly, voice sounding hoarse._

"_Woah! Ya finally decide ta talk?" He questioned in surprise, pulling out the match stick. "So ya gonna tell me ya name?"_

_The boy sniffed again. "Name's Grimmjow." He rubbed at his eyes, clearing his vision. _

_Grimmjow smiled a little at Nnoitora's piano keyed teeth. Wistfully flicking his narrow wrist, the spark ignited the end of the match and Nnoitora lit the end of the rolled piece of paper._

"_It's a joint." He explained with a grin. "Know what tha' is?" _

_At this point Grimmjow faced his entire body towards Nnoitora, a dense bitter smell flooded his noses. He didn't know what a 'joint' was. Watching the teen pulling it to his mouth, he sucked on the end of the thing. _

_Moving it away, Nnoitora exhaled thick smog into Grimmjow's face. He coughed up from it._

"_That's gross." Grimmjow chided, screwing his nose up in disgust._

_The smell was new to him though, it was nothing like that foul alcoholic odour he often breathed in at home._

"_Hahaha, S'good though! Wanna try? It'll make ya feel betta." _

_Grimmjow was somewhat cautious, he didn't see any harm from what the joint could do. Though, Nnoitora did look a lot happier because of it. He noticed his head relax against the tree they sat against , his slender left arm brushing the top of grass._

_Strangely enough, Grimmjow decided to believe him._

"_What do I do…?" The small blunette asked innocently, he'd never been exposed to something like this before._

"_Easy, jus' put it to your mouth and suck it into ya lungs." Nnoitora informed, passing the joint over to Grimmjow. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, Grimmjow slowly moved it towards his mouth. Heart pounding in anticipation, sticking it in with a deep breath. He pulled back on it, warm smoke filtered into his mouth._

_There was a slight burn, he sucked it down and choked violently. Loud sputtering coughs raged in attempt to clear his throat, he looked up at Nnoitora who was laughing. Grimmjow's eyes watered a little._

"_Yeah I forgot ta tell 'ya, first time's usually like tha." He belatedly informed Grimmjow between loud cackles of laughter._

_Grimmjow felt a tingling sensation on the inside of his throat, it felt kind of nice. He took another hit, letting the smoke fill his mouth, he slowly breathed it down. The insides of his lungs felt warm, releasing the smoke out of his mouth. Grimmjow chocked a little less this time. _

"_Wow, ya did well there Grimm! Feel betta?" Nnoitora asked, taking it back from Grimmjow for another pull. He winced his eyes a little, absorbing himself in the new found sensations. His head felt a lighter, his mouth was dryer, both arms and legs felt detached from his body._

_Those anchored thoughts from the past weeks floated upwards, into the bright blue cloudless sky out of sight. Grimmjow really did feel better. "Yeaaaah, 'feel light." He exhaled with a smile._

_They passed the rest of it between them, both conversing in their clouded state of serenity._

_Although Grimmjow didn't know the black haired teen Nnoitora at all, he'd been nice enough to let Grimmjow come and stay at his place for the night._

_He'd face the fragmented reality of his own home life another time._

* * *

Fists made contact with the tattered trundle bed, the springs rippled violently at the brunt of his frustration. "Those fuckin' guards and that Doctor." He rasped out all too pissed. Following the events of his admission check up, Grimmjow lost it completely.

Those idiot's didn't take him seriously, he warned the Doctor before he even started his check up – that if he did anything funny, Grimmjow would break all of his bones. Provoked or un-provoked he didn't give a stiff shit. They should've known.

Thrashing in a blind rage on the floor, the guards roughed him around like some punching bag.

Especially that bald headed prick.

But the one thing that stuck in his mind was that Doctor, that orange hair was etched into his skull with a rusted kitchen knife.

"Doctor fucking Kurosaki." He spat the name out in ample disgust. Grimmjow had been isolated to his cell for almost three hours now, restrained to temporary lock down until he could calm his violent rage. Grimmjow easily recalled how that orange haired medic looked down upon him from his high horse. He wanted to teach that prick true pain, those darkened brown eyes were glassed over judging him.

They reminded Grimmjow of that moment from his past, he hated _him_ and he hated those eyes.

The exhilaration from earlier made him huff out like a rampant rhino. "Hahaha! calm ya' self kitty cat. Been restrained to ya cage now?" That hackling voice spliced his thoughts.

"What the fuck do you want Shiro?" Grimmjow spat at him, he knew of this freak.

"Already been here five minutes and ya completely lost it at tha' nice Doc an' his friends?" Shiro coaxed, all Grimmjow could do was clench his fists. That profuse anger was climaxing again, he tried to control his evident rage. Thoughts seeping back to the memory of _those_ people. From experience, the only thing that truly sated his rage was violence. That or a line of coke, though he was almost five years clean.

Sitting up into a slouch, he faced Shiro. The unruly albino stood from the other end of the curt steel poles with a smirk. "Ah, Grimm. Ya just need ta relax a bit, gonna turn that bright blue hair of yours white – just like mine." He said with cheek, ruffling his own hair a bit.

Being confined to a cage within a prison made his inner beast crave blood.

Growling in agitation Grimmjow questioned Shiro. "What the hell do ya want from me?"

"Eh? Jus' thought I'd let ya know they're gonna let ya out soon if ya promise to be on your best behaviour. I think they're gonna skip the testin' for a little while." Shiro maintained that demonic smile. Grimmjow flashed a grimace back, that hate-filled outburst of his must have pushed the Warden's buttons.

"And how do ya know that?" He asked completely unconvinced that the albino was being truthful.

"Oh I've always had my ways, though they're gonna keep a watchful eye on ya for awhile. After that stunt ya pulled with tha' nice Doc, the Warden isn't very forgivin'!" Shiro's demonic voice erupted into a laugh, fiendish black eyes dilating.

"Ah well, cya round Grimm!" He trailed off, feet bumping against the cemented floor.

After hearing that, Grimmjow threw his body against the worn bed. He truly wanted that fucking Doctor to pay in blood for this, he'd never be let out of the Warden's sight because of _him_.

* * *

**Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

___**Karakura Japan, 5 years earlier.**_

_All she could do was stare, zeroing in on his face. "You can't be serious about this Ichi?" She questioned, blue eyes were teeming with renouncement – the black haired girl refused to believe what she'd just heard._

"_What do you mean I can't be serious?" Ichigo replied, had he really become that out of sync with his closest friends? "I've decided what I want to do and that's final." He concluded._

"_Working in a prison is no place for anybody, especially you Ichi. It's so out of character, I really don't think you could handle it." _

_From the time he met her, Tatsuki Arisawa had always had an overbearing friend complex. She had been one of his closest friends, always sticking by his side from childhood. Tatsuki was there to stand beside him when his mother died and even to defend him from his own demons. But as he grew, Ichigo learnt to face up to them by himself._

"_Tatsuki, I get it. But you need to remember I'm not that little defenceless kid any more, I am 19 years old – I know what I'm doing." Ichigo had spoken back to her, reaching over to grab the piquant steaming cup of coffee from the bench._

_After just breaking the news to her that he wanted to work as a Warden Doctor in a prison. Ichigo knew his friends, and could already foresee that some of them wouldn't take this well. "I know Ichigo but you have to understand, these people are cruel and violent. I don't wanna see you hurt!"_

"_There you go again Tatsuki! You're acting as if I can't defend myself. I'll be fine…"_

"_LOOK!" She cut him off, shoving the Karakura daily newspaper into his face. "Just take a look at that guy Ichi. He's a rapist, look what he did to this poor girl…" Tatsuki said, moving the newspaper back from Ichigo's view to begin reading. "Shirosaki Ogichi aged 21, was found guilty after pleading innocent to his charge of sexual assault today. The fashioned 'Osaka Hollow', was previously charged for the sexual assault of a female victim (whose age and identity will remain anonymous) – in an alleyway a few blocks behind the popular night Club 'Cero', a month ago. The woman was found with several obstructions to her head and face, but after being transported to the Osaka Base Hospital she was reported to be in a stable condition and recovering well. Following the verdict, Shirosaki was sentenced to six years of imprisonment and will be serving it in Osaka's high-security Reformatory prison.'" She highlighted, shaking the newspaper at Ichigo a little._

_Sipping his steaming espresso, Ichigo formed a scowl as Tatsuki continued to elaborate – "You'd be working with these types of people. Rapists, drug addicts, gang members, murderers and monsters Ichi! This is really not for you, you'll just get hurt – stay here and take over your father's clinic like he planned!"_

_Her eyes were glimmering with heartbreak. Tatsuki had always been the bigger sister to Ichigo, he himself never felt this way inclined – but Tatsuki grew accustomed to protecting him when they were younger._

_Slamming his right fist on the desk, Ichigo was through with this argument. "I've had it. If you don't like it fine! But don't talk to me about it, if you can't accept my choice then go and bother someone else – I'm done."_

_Shoving himself from under the bench in Tatsuki's kitchenette, Ichigo sighed and walked towards the exit. _

"_Ichigo! Please just –" Tatsuki pleaded from behind._

"_I'm done with this Tatsuki. If you can't accept it as it is, then fine! Goodbye." Ichigo finalized, unlocking the paint decayed rustic door. Sparing himself from Tatsuki's arrogant persistence, he left. Swinging his right hand back to slam the door, its discordant pitch shrouded his scars – Ichigo was sick of being controlled and sheltered by people. They wouldn't stop him from what he wanted any more._

_Walking down the burnished concrete corridor, Ichigo raised both arms and slapped them to his face. "Why oh why?" The orangette questioned himself, walking down the flight of stairs at the end of the hall._

_Ichigo wasn't 'that' kid any more._

* * *

Following the perplexity of last week's situation in the Doctor's Station, the Warden Officer Kensei had given Ichigo some respite and allowed him to distance himself from the Soul Society. The past four months on the job had been tough, between the excessive on call visits and rough diamonds he treated – Ichigo had always maintained his level-headedness in situations that called for more force.

But this time it had been different, different for Ichigo on an emotional level. The orange haired Doctor could still envision the murderous look of rage that occupied _that_ particular inmate's eyes. Never in those four months had he seen this type of look – the frigidness of sombre blue eyes that flared bloodshed.

It reminded him too much of his mother's death, the thing he shielded himself from for a long time. Albeit, ever since he had veered from some of his closer friendships all those years ago – Ichigo always maintained that he could handle and defend himself. But as of late, he questioned that decision more and more. As each day swung by on the pendulum, his wandering thoughts always lead back to the words his friend's spoke. The words Tatsuki had spoken to him about working in a prison.

The orangette was always stubborn – but after the criminal, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques had roused a potent fear in his heart. Those emotional walls had come back up, the one's Ichigo constructed out of his protective semblance to save people.

However, despite all of this… Ichigo concluded that there was nothing to save in Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

The inmate's deep ocean blue orbs were destitute. Devoid of all morality and elation, Ichigo could still see that when he shut his own eyes – Grimmjow Jaegerjaques felt nothing.

Instinctively deprived of empathy, the orangette Doctor knew from that instant he was an animal. A callous fiend.

He wasn't going to let it deter him from his calling though, he would try and persuade Kensei to let him steer clear of _that_ particular man.

Ichigo knew that this was the one criminal his façade couldn't delude.

After lying in bed tossing and turning for over two hours, Ichigo could see the day break through the crimson curtains of his resident housing in Tokyo's Rukon. The past four days had become increasingly tedious, Kensei had granted him some time to himself – it was the prison Warden's own form of kindness. Ichigo took the offer with open arms, however he couldn't stand having no purpose.

Reaching from across the bed to the wooden night stand beside his queen sized bed, the orangette grabbed his phone and dialled the Soul Society prison administration.

"Hello, could you please put me through to Kensei – it's Doctor Kurosaki speaking." He requested, the voice on the other line transferred him through.

"Kensei." The Warden Officer stated with that familiar husky tone.

"Hey Kensei, its Ichigo."

"What can I do for ya?"

"I'm just letting you know that I would like to return to work, I think I've taken enough time off I can come into today if you like?" He inquired with an underlying plea to his voice. Ichigo was still nervous to traverse the prison halls, but with extra precaution he had hoped the escapade had blown over entirely. The orangette could always request Renji to keep a watchful eye on him if need be, the tattooed officer wouldn't mind the company either.

"Are ya sure that's a good idea? You can have a few more days if ya like? Though, I'll have Doctor Unohana asses the other patients for awhile if that's what ya want?" The white haired Warden questioned in rapid fire.

"What? I can do that, it'll be fine if you just bring Renji in we can…" Ichigo said almost defensively of his position.

"Look kid, the guy was a danger to both you and Renji alone. I don't want to put two of my staff at risk because of one dumb move. We have our eye on him now, he isn't allowed out of sight but I refuse to risk it." The Warden Officer retorted, the orangette on the other line was slightly taken aback. Even over the phone, Kensei still held that food chain dominance.

"But, It will be –"

"My words final, come in tomorrow and we'll sort the details out then. Catch'ya."

The dial tone sung blandly into the Ichigo's ear.

With a rumbled exhale, he threw himself back down on his silk laden pillow in frustration. The orange haired Doctor remained useless for another twenty four hours.

* * *

The violent swarm of prison chatter echoed throughout the concrete auditorium, plastic trays met the surface of limestone high top benches. The watchful eye of various prison guards leered throughout the hall, scanning the clad navy blue inmates for signs of upheaval.

The only real differences from Grimmjow Jaegerjaques' previous prison, was the uniforms and the food. The navy blue prison attire he was forced into was baggy on his form, 6'4" and the blue haired inmate couldn't fit into these rags. It was a downgrade from the last hole he stayed at.

The only thing that complimented his current custody was the food – from his previous prison back in Osaka, the food they served was fermented slop. It paled in comparison to road kill and it was barely edible for even the most malnourished of people.

Four days after his confrontation with Doctor Kurosaki, he was liberated from his confinement after getting a control on his rage. The Warden Officer, Kensei had warned the Sexta that if he pushed one more toe out of line – he would never leave isolation for the rest of his sentencing period.

Grimmjow scoffed at the threat, that was nothing compared to overcoming his violent cocaine withdrawals – he welcomed a challenge with a rough snarl. It pushed the Warden's buttons knowing that the blue haired inmate remained idle to his threats.

Letting out a contended sigh, Grimmjow sat alone at the marbled high top table at the far end of the auditorium. It was currently lunch hour and most people – criminal and guards a like, knew who he was. The blue haired inmate was one of _the_ most destructive and violent criminals of Sosuke Aizen's crime organization. Inmates feared him and maintained their distance, the prison guards shadowed him but remained cautious.

He enjoyed the isolation at times. Grimmjow was the abominable Sexta, immediately ascending the ranks of the prison hierarchy on admission.

Picking away at the re-blasted vegetables on his tray, he cocked his gaze up to the albino walking towards him.

"What'n the fuck do you think ya doing?" He question with grumble, after his outburst at the Warden Doctor – Shirosaki had backed off to let him cool down. The rigid fiend had really ground his gears following their first conversation four days ago.

"Tha' anyway to treat 'an ol' friend?" Shiro replied with a demonic smirk, all eyes were on these two men. Shiro was the only inmate in the Soul Society, who was actually bold enough to confront the criminal without fear of losing a few teeth.

"Friend? And where'n the fuck did ya get that idea?"

"I thought we went _waaaaaaaay_ back?" The pallid inmate's fiendish laugh rang a shrill pitch into Grimmjow's ear. He'd always known the albino to be light-hearted and often jaunty.

"Of course…" He said with a low hearted tone, scrunching his face up in disgust the blue haired inmate looked towards the refurbished white ceiling. Out of all the fucking prisons he was transferred to – Shirosaki happened to follow.

"So how've ya been feelin' in the last few days? I think ya scared the good Doc off!" He began to coax, Grimmjow's face tugged into a distasteful grimace in reminder of the Doctor he already wanted to pain. After calming his rage down over last few days, the blunette Sexta had pushed the thoughts of his admission check up to the back of his mind.

When reminded, it often made his blood thicken with a toxic hate. "Fuck you and fuck him." He shot up, Shiro began to laugh at his premature tantrum. The eyes of three prison officers were cemented on both men from afar.

"C'mon, just makin' fun of ya. Sit back down, you haven't eaten all of ya carrots yet."

Grimmjow's teeth were grinding furiously, it was clear he had anger issues but if there was one thing he hated more than the memory of that fucking orange haired Doctor – was Shiro's antics. With a soundless step to the albino's side, Grimmjow shot his right hand out and grasped the back of the albino's head. Curling his fingers into a painful iron grip around the skull, he slammed his face downwards onto the hard surface of the limestone high-top.

"You wanna fuckin' watch yourself." He growled out lifting Shiro's face back up, he groaned as metallic red blood trickled down from his nose. Adorning his white complexion.

Tightening his grip around the albino's skull again, he slammed his face back down into the bench.

"Let's not forget about the '_Osaka Hollow_' now?" Grimmjow whispered aggressively into his ear, with a huff he released his constricted grasp and walked off. The guards were already on his case, ready to drag him out. With a shove of his shoulder, he pushed one out of the way. Those black and white buttoned uniform's pissed him off to no end.

They got the message he was already on his way out.

It was a common occurrence for inmates to wrestle violently over meals, to them Grimmjow made it look just like that. He wouldn't have to hear from the Warden about this then, though it would still send that white haired prick a message – along with the other inmates.

Don't fuck with Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

Sadistically lifting a smirk, the blunette chuckled as he heard Shiro's dazed groans from the other end of the auditorium. His pain was Grimmjow's release.

"Prick."

* * *

_**Karakura Japan, 5 years earlier.**_

_A few days after confronting Tatsuki, 19 year old Ichigo sat in his dorm contemplating why the last few days of his life went to shit._

_Following him breaking the news to his seemingly ex-best friend, Tatsuki decided to call Orihime and Chad to indulge the news he shared with her in confidence._

_It seemed as if, despite the close connections he held with all of them. It was a war of the worlds, Ichigo being the victim and his friend's gunning him down like a terrorist. Orihime expressed excessive concern for Ichigo's well being and Chad spun the same bullshit Tatsuki did in his own stoic way._

_He felt betrayed to say the least, they were all close – ever since high school all three of the orangette's friends had become a second family. A home away from home, they weren't a substitute for his real family – but it seemed as if Tatsuki, Chad and Orihime had a better understanding of Ichigo and of each other as they all operated on the same wavelength._

_But when it came to Ichigo's own decisions, there was always animosity. They had this idea in their own heads, that when it came to make life altering choices – Ichigo apparently couldn't think on his own volition. _

_The orangette had always felt infuriated by this, Ichigo wasn't dumb, by far – he was studying a medical degree to become a doctor. Furthermore, it wasn't like he couldn't fight either. Tatsuki and Ichigo had trained nearly every day since the age of six in her family's dojo._

_Ichigo couldn't see what the real problem was. Now a few days later, sitting in his dormitory isolating himself from his closest friends – the orangette sat bleakly on his wooden stool, tapping the time idly away. He didn't want to confront them, it was clear there was no breaking point._

_The thick sheets of ice that now separated them, refused to break under Ichigo's contemplation._

_After pulling out the 'Anatomy of the Human Body' and summarizing the notes for study, Ichigo's phone rang. An ambient ring tone briefly filled the room's thought provoked silence. Accepting the call Ichigo proceeded._

"_Hello?"_

"_Hey Ichigo! It's papa, how are you?" A pre-adolescent like voice questioned._

"_What do you want?" Ichigo demanded, whenever his father called he always wanted something._

"_Well, if you want to get straight down to it. Tatsuki called." He said with a sullen voice._

"_Yeah well, we aren't having this conversation. I'm hanging up now, bye old man."_

"_Ichigo, wait!" His father demanded in that exceedingly rare, stern voice of his._

"…_Okay?"_

"_Look, Tatsuki explained to me what you want to do. She told me how you felt about this and why you want to do it." His father said to Ichigo._

_Remaining silent, the orangette contemplated the best time to hang up before his father tried to beg and plead him not to follow his own choices._

"_Despite what she said to me, I know in my heart that this is what you want." He continued, Ichigo was stunned by his father's quick acceptance of his own decision. "And I also know that…" He trailed off with a dulled tone of voice. "As much as I want you to take over the Kurosaki Clinic for me, your mother would have wanted you to make your own choice."_

_Ichigo's sepia eyes dilated, teeming in confusion. It had been a long time since both him and his father had a conversation about his latent mother._

"_Dad?" He questioned almost dubiously._

"_Look Ichigo, I know what you want. Even though it isn't want I want and… Obviously what your friend's want either. But you need to do this for yourself okay?" _

_It was rare his own father ever offered him this type of encouraging advice. Past that perplex scowl of his, he really did love his father._

"_Thanks Dad. Really…!" _

"_You're welcome! Anyway, how's about you come see Papa and your sisters sometime soon – they really miss you. We can all get together like a family again." Isshin mentioned, voice turning jovial through the speaker_

"_I'm a second year medical student Dad, what do you think? Anyway I'm hanging up now, tell Yuzu and Karin I love them. Bye bye!"_

_Preparing to end the call, he could hear his father audibly gushing through the speaker. Announcing his profuse love and happiness for his son being a man._

_With one swift click, Ichigo cut the call off and threw his phone over onto his bed. Swinging his back around to lean both elbows on surface of his smooth black desk, the orangette sighed._

"_Even if I will be working with 'rapists, drug addicts, gang members, murderers and monsters'" He said to himself, quoting what Tatsuki had said a few days earlier._

"_We're all human and I will save each and every one of them." Ichigo concluded in encouragement. He'd made up his mind, with a little fatherly nudge and the orangette's own confidence – Ichigo had found his calling._

* * *

**Don't forget to tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_**Osaka Japan, 15 years earlier.**_

_Life had slowly become a barren landscape over the past year and everything had crumbled into ruins__ for Grimmjow. He didn't experience bad days from time to time, but rather every waking moment tended to become a never ending bitterness, that was like a black hole in his heart._

_Sucking his emotions dry._

_School was always drawn out for Grimmjow, he lacked general attention and was always shunned by his teachers and peers like a sickly leper. For the past year he began to despise the way he was treated, if Grimmjow wasn't being picked on because of the blotchy bruises across his arms or face – it was because he was alienated amongst his classmates._

_None of them were concerned or expressed any care for him._

_Shortly after, Grimmjow developed a violent tendency towards the kid's who picked on him. He saw it as self defence, however others saw it as unnecessary violence. When these outbursts became noticeable, Grimmjow was suspended from school. There was a lot of injustice for the teen, but violence was soothing for the blunette – it numbed his mind from the things that tormented him when it was inflicted on others._

_This suspension was followed up by his mother's rough-housed slaps and beatings for being a 'worthless prick.'_

_After one year of fluctuating hope, Grimmjow bid farewell to the day's happiness and slowly dwindled into sadness._

_He hated his life and he hated the hell he was often imprisoned to everyday, there was never a smile on his form – the frown he constantly wore became a trademark complexion. And the times Grimmjow rarely did smile, were quickly washed away by his mother's calloused hand. Living at home was an uphill battle for the thirteen year old, his only escape lied in the weekends he spent at Nnoitora's, numbingly high off drugs._

_For a a teenager suffering abuse most of his life, Grimmjow felt it normal to live this affliction._

"_Ya good Grimm?" A tiresome voice asked him from the unmade bedside, both Nnoitora and Grimmjow finished passing a joint between them thirty minutes earlier. Ever since he met his raven haired friend a year ago, the friendship they developed was comforting amongst the heart break._

"'_M better Nnoi, thanks." He said in a pliable state of mind, marijuana was offering temporary relief from the tangent pain inflicted on his body. These moments spent with his only friend were a remedy for the emotional pain, but it was the drugs itself that took away the painful bruises and scars etched into him._

"_Ya back still hurt?" Nnoitora asked, it was just hours before that Grimmjow fled his hell to Nnoitora's, because his mother erupted into an outburst of her own – smacking into his back with a the bare end of a magazine. Nnoitora lived with his uncle who was often out on what Nnoitora called 'businesses', Grimmjow never questioned it only because Nnoitora was often happy to provide the disabused teen with hospitality. _

_Only minute traces of happiness surfaced for Grimmjow every now and then, they were bought to the surface during time's like these._

"_Not feelin' anything now, I'ma be okay – I think." Grimmjow replied with little positivity, they were both lying on his Nnoitora's bed – the silken sheets comforting their anchorless state of reality._

_When the idea of his father abandoning Grimmjow slowly sunk in, the once happy Grimmjow was now a contrast of black and white. No real emotion, his inner most sanctions were a darkened cave full of inner demons and turmoil._

_The parental support was gone and there was no one to wipe away his tears, he soon learnt that it was weak to actually show emotion in front of others. Nobody truly cared for him so Grimmjow slowly began to build up walls of fear and hate. In this vulnerable state, Nnoitora acted like a guardian angel of sorts – an older brother. The things Grimmjow did were an imitation of Nnoitora's own actions. If Nnoitora was angered – Nnoitora would punch someone and laugh at it, if Nnoitora was bored – they would go out and steal things. Grimmjow followed suit, the raven haired teen was the one raising him._

_Grimmjow and Nnoitora spent the duration of the teen's school suspension; loitering around streets as if they were stray wolves, both stealing from shops when they had the chance and would sit around in Nnoitora's shed passing a joint back and forth between them._

_Grimmjow had planned to stay the entire weekend, Nnoitora knew that the blunette's mother was the cause of his pain, so he tried to prevent it from happening any way he could._

"_Ya uncle gonna be home any time soon?" Grimmjow asked, breaking the silence they sat in. The blunette teen was generally curious as to what his friend's uncle did for work. Nnoitora often brushed it aside and said it wasn't very important and the only thing they should be more concerned about is the weed they 'borrowed' from his room._

"_Nah, said he was going ta' Tokyo for somethin' important, so we can do whatever we want."_

_That was good news for Grimmjow who shut his eyes, he didn't enjoy doing much. But when he was with Nnoitora, Grimmjow was able to enjoy the delinquent like activities they got up to._

_After a few hours of clouded thoughts, the effects of marijuana helped the blunette sink into sleep - which was something that came difficult for him now. Grimmjow slowly opened up more and more to Nnoitora over the past year, he became someone the blunette truly felt content with._

_The weekend passed by swiftly, Nnoitora and Grimmjow hung around the streets – vandalizing local property and stealing from shops. The blunette learnt that Nnoitora didn't bother with school, the only smarts he needed were learnt off the street._

_When it came around, their Sunday consisted of a drawn out sleep after roaming the suburbs of Osaka in the earlier hours of the morning. Grimmjow knew he had to return home at least once for a change of clothes and proper nights rest – but the woman he tried to elude himself from, would ultimately be there to shatter his world and strike him down like a cynical outcast._

_He left early Sunday night, he sauntered around the back streets of Osaka's Hueco Muendo suburbs like an imitation of a stray alley cat, avoiding his real intentions of returning home. There was a slight smile on his face upon walking up the steps to his house, opening the door – he knew his mother was probably passed out somewhere inside, so he didn't have to worry about any confrontations. Stepping through the door into the dankly lit house, the paint chipped walls were barely visible from the doorway. With a cautious push backwards of the wooden door frame, the blunette shut it quietly and trekked down the hallway into his room. _

_Heading his own thoughts, Grimmjow tread lightly._

_His smile grew a little wider when he made it to his bedroom, silently locking the door he changed out of his clothes that smelt of malted weed and cigarettes and jumped into bed._

_Shutting his sapphire like eyes, Grimmjow prayed for a quick escape in the morning._

* * *

After impartially waiting for yesterday to pass by, Ichigo had long anticipated his return to work.

The orangette was never one to be set on standby when it came to the profession he was passionate about; Ichigo would often curse at his own idiosyncratic tendencies when it came to idly wasting the days away.

When things started to become stale between his long term friends at university, the friendship he shared turned transparent. What once used to be heart filled conversations and discussions between Tatsuki, Orihime and Chad, suddenly turned into superficial hello's and dips of the head between classes and lunch breaks.

Pitiful school yard alienation from his friends was the new black, Ichigo was used to this type of treatment all his life though. Ever since high school, the thugs and bullies thought it would be a grand idea to beat down on him for standing out in a crowd, the orangette spat at the thought of been a singularity amongst the norm.

After wasting away what could have been a perfect day to complete various medical forms and prescriptions for the inmates at the Soul Society clinic, Ichigo's quashed attempt to return to work only lead to an unproductive day of cleaning and burning the four hundred grams of packet Soba noodles he cooked for dinner.

Shift work disharmonized the Doctor's routine, and to be thrust back into a nominal _'day off'_ only lead to a disgruntled Ichigo. Socialization was honestly out of the question for the orangette, his current friends and acquaintances were all padlocked by the same _shift work_ routine he was bound by. Ichigo slowly figured that down time with friends at the prison was a packaged deal given the circumstances of his already crumby friendships anyway.

Renji, Shuuhei, Ikkaku and even Doctor Unohana were all good to talk to at times, but if he were to count the times he was actually able to socialize outside of the prison in the four months he'd been working there.

It'd be a blank tally.

Ever since the orangette entered the final years of his doctorate at university, the time for socialization was little – between the excessive amounts of study and late night cramming, it became dinosaur extinct amongst the undergraduate students serious about their career paths.

Today was a clean slate for the labour bent Doctor though – upon waking up, showering and eating one slice of toast – the orangette contemplated the state of his work place.

Doctor Unohana was always reliable due to the fact that his female senior had been in this type of practice for many years. Ichigo always appreciated her constant tutelage and knew that she'd be able to take over his duties at the clinic, following his absence in the past few days.

The kempt spring atmosphere bought Ichigo's joy into fruition following the twenty minute drive to the Soul Society. Upon entering administration in the grandeur white building out front, Ichigo proceeded to the Doctor's Station once again – trailing along that same war path, mentally preparing for the day ahead.

* * *

"Ya shouldn't coop ya 'self up in here like this Ichi, it'll all go to ya head." Renji's voice broke the labouring silence, upon entering the Doctor's Station early before, Ichigo had stuck his head down into the depths of the retrograding paper work that piled up during his absence.

"Hn? What of it? You try being forced off work for a few days only to return to mountains of prescription forms and observation requests that've been thrown across your desk." Ichigo interjected his banter, it was one thing to actually sit in a room with an unoccupied Renji – but it escalated to a whole new level when the prison officer started interrupting his own work.

Before he'd arrived, Renji had accompanied him and informed Ichigo that for the next month or_ two_, he would be shadowed by a prison officer so they could deter any internal conflicts with prisoners and other personnel. He immediately understood the underlying fear that Kensei expressed for him when it came to his own protection, but it frustrated Ichigo when it seemed as if Kensei thought he couldn't defend himself.

Was he honestly coming off as a defenceless child in this place?

The orangette hadn't had a chance to question Kensei's provisions yet, but after he certified all of the forms and had a moment to confront the Warden Officer – he would.

"Your jobs boring, this is boring. How'n the hell do you sit here day in day out without any action?" Renji proceeded all too childishly, if it wasn't for the fact that the orangette medic was actually grateful to return to his beloved station – he probably would have castrated Renji with his pen by now.

"As opposed to acting all manly and tough standing around all day and trying to find a chance to rough up some prisoner because they looked at you funny?" Ichigo refuted sarcastically from his desk, ritually signing each form away with a wistful flick of his pen.

"Besides, I don't know anyone who wouldn't look at you funny. With your hair tied up like_ that_."

"You wanna watch yourself _Ichigo._" Renji replied in a serious tone of voice, despite only knowing the tattooed officer for only four months – Ichigo knew the man prided himself on what he liked to called his '_devilish_' looks.

"Mm, your such a hot shot." The Doctor replied rolling his eyes, Renji often exerted an aura of physical debauchery – "Anyway, since it's not worth disputing Kensei's decision in you becoming the annoying tail on my behind, I have a form here to go and collect a prisoner called 'Dordoni' who's been complaining of a soreness in his oesophagus." Ichigo informed after placing the rest of the certified paperwork aside.

"Ya gonna dumb it down for me or?"

"Don't worry dumbass, do you know if the prisoners are on release yet?" Ichigo questioned, grabbing Renji by the shoulder to move him outwards, the officer was blinking in confusion.

"Is there somethin' in your ears or did ya work really get to your head? The call was put over the PA almost an hour ago, _dumbass_." The tattooed officer cast back with a colourful smirk, the pair exited the sanitary space and headed for the court yards.

When the prisoners were out on release, the Doctor had to manually find or request a patient to be sent to the station, Ichigo was all too happy to go for a wander in hopes of satisfying Renji's endless boredom.

"Hey Ichi." He perked up from behind, matching Ichigo's pace. "I forgot to ask, how're ya feeling after _that _incident a 'couple of days ago?

Continuing his stride, the orangette contemplated for a moment. What he really wanted to say was it did impact on him, even if it was only a little, the intent to kill and sombre expression he saw in the criminals eyes were put on a haunting replay in his thoughts.

He also wanted to relay his inner most truths to Renji, and tell him that he was stressed by it, but the orangette knew he couldn't come across as weak or Kensei would find out and be on his ass like a moth to a flame.

"Thinkin' nothing of it Renji." He lied through his bare teeth, lifting an unthoughtful shrug, Ichigo noticed the red head pursing his lips in wake of his response.

The sound of footsteps sung out through the corridor leading outside to the prison courtyards, it was a momentary silence between the two before Renji piped up – "Anyway, who're we lookin' for again?"

Walking along a little more, Ichigo recalled the name to his co-worked – "A man named Dordoni, know of him?"

"There's hundreds of lowlifes in this scum hole and you expect me to remember every single one of them? Tch." He replied with that dynamic baritone, when Renji got like this it was often hard to distinguish between the banter they shared and the seriousness of the prison routine. Though, it sounded more like sarcasm than anything else.

The Doctor groaned a little before exiting the foyer, he thought it to be a little selfish of him to be sent on a chase when he spent the last couple of days sheepishly whining about the lack of unproductiveness in his personal life.

"S'pose we could ask another inmate, it might be easier." Ichigo posed considerately, he knew how Renji hated the prisoners and would often smack down on them a little harshly if they became uncooperative.

The sun was beating down on the two as they entered the court yards, the bright noon rays evaporated the stigmatic environment of the prison.

Various inmates were sauntered around fences and railings in groups of threes and fours, it was almost like an atypical school yard – with convicted thugs and gang members though. Some of the criminals were passing balls between them, stroking the hands of time away.

"Who do you suggest we ask?" Ichigo questioned Renji who had his arms crossed.

"How tha' hell should I know? Just pick one and do the talking, I don't wanna be near one."

Ignoring his subjective remark about the inmates, Ichigo and Renji stood from afar observing the various cliques – trying to single someone out that would cooperate with the two entirely. Sure there were other guards stationed throughout the fields, but they were distanced from afar with only a watchful eye to observe.

Ichigo had no idea what the man 'Dordoni' actually looked like and Renji was never one to remember faces in this place, so asking another inmate seemed like a good idea – until it came to a matter of selecting one that would again; actually cooperate.

"Seems like ya lost somethin'?" An icy voice erupted from behind, Renji was first to spin around an identify the inmate. Ichigo's own gaze followed and he took note of a familiar white complexion.

"Judgin' by that look I guess I'm right, I could help ya find the thing ya lost but it comes with a price." The inmate suggested.

"Get lost whitey." Renji grumbled.

"You been wakin' up on tha wrong side of the bed again Red?" The albino questioned with an impish laugh, his navy blue uniform was baggy on his form.

With a grunt, Ichigo watched the tattooed officer pull a domineering stance. "How's ya nose? Didn't get beat up on in the showers did'ya? My guess is you deserved it for wha–"

"Renji!" Ichigo blurted out loudly, pulling the officer backwards before he said anything stupid, the orangette stepped forward. The inmate, who Ichigo remembered to be the transferee from the other day – narrowed those demonic eyes at Renji, zeroing in on his face.

Ichigo didn't feel any coercion from being in his presence like he did the other day in the Doctor's check up.

"Yeah, we're looking for someone actually, a man named Dordoni. Know of him?" Ichigo questioned hopefully.

Shirosaki's eyes opened a little and shifted onto Ichigo, the orangette noticed a glimmering amount of heart ache in his golden quartz like eyes.

"Perhaps, but it might cost ya – I know a lotta faces in this place already." That shrill monotone coaxed, it wasn't exactly against procedure to bargain with an inmate – but it was frowned upon.

"Tell you what, I'm quite busy today so if you can tell us where he is I'll follow you up with a favour next time I see you okay?" Ichigo offered, Renji whom he was holding back, began shifting in his grip.

"Careful Ichi, ya don't wanna go makin' deals with scum."

"Renji." Ichigo barked at him with dwindling patience, an abrupt silence broke out between the three, Ichigo watched Shiro contemplate again.

"Eh, I trust' ya Doc. You've been good to me so far, but I want ya word on that favour."

Ichigo smiled a little, knowing the game of huntsman was drawing to a close. Bargaining with the perplex albino was a lot easier than he originally thought.

"Thanks for this! I usually keep my promises." Ichigo replied reassuringly, all the while Renji backed off from the two.

"I usually see 'im on the far end of the second court just ova' there, but look out Doc! Seems like Blue's taken an interest in ya." His voiced returned to that icy tone, before either Ichigo or Renji could comment – Shirosaki's voice fell down another octave into a seedy monotone.

"Or maybe he just wants ta carve up ya body."

The Doctor's shoulders tensed, the idea in itself was disconcerting. That once absent coercion had returned to his mind and clicked Ichigo's paranoia up a notch.

"Don't worry 'bout Blue, he's been a little grouchy in tha last couple days though. I'm sure he'll warm up to ya… Or maybe not, just don't forget that favour." He rang out with a heart filled chuckle, Renji and Ichigo watched the deathly inmate break away from their huddle, out of site – his baggy uniform bobbing in a coast of swaying arms and feet.

"Fuckin' freak." Renji commented, all the while Ichigo was inwardly fretting a little – attempting to shove the thoughts of trepidation to the back of his mind. The memories from the other day were slowly creeping past his defences.

"Yeah, let's just find this guy and get this check up over and done with." Ichigo suggested to Renji beside him – the two began to walk over in the direction of the second court Shirosaki had recommended to look at.

Unbeknownst to the Doctor himself, a set of vicious sapphire eyes were firmly locked onto him from behind the groups of common thugs, loitering around the courts.

* * *

_**Osaka Japan, 15 years earlier.**_

_Sleep was something a teenage Grimmjow often cherished when he could, due to the increased emotional and physical ailments he endured in the passing year – it was hard to bag a good night's rest._

_He stirred a little in his bed, his bladder was full and he really needed to chuck a piss._

_Shifting a little more from under the sheets, his mind slowly faded from a blissful unconsciousness. Stretching his arms and legs out, Grimmjow relieved the tensions from stiff joints and ligaments – the echoing cracks shot off the walls of his room._

_Grimmjow felt invigorated with a resurgent energy after sleeping so well, the sun shone brightly through the mattered blinds as he lazily slumped out of bed. He rubbed__ a lot of sleep away from his eyes, the blunette teen moved along towards his door. Mind still foggy from his rest._

_The door began to creak and he unlocked it and swung the wooden frame open, entering the hallways and walking downwards to the annex at the back of his house. __Opening the toilet door, he relived his once full bladder into the bowl – flushing it and washing his hands he yawned again. The soapy water dripped onto his labyrinth like set of blue hair, randomly sprawled out in various directions like a vibrant blue fire cracker exploding in the night sky._

_Grimmjow exited the bathroom and walked into the living room._

"_So the big man of the house is awake?"_

_The blunette teen's complexion arched in a little. _

"_Huh?"_

"_Where the fuck do you think you've been? Walking in an out of this house, do you think you're a fucking adult?" She smacked the surface of the table, an irritable cacophony assaulted Grimmjow's morning ridden senses._

_Gritting his teeth together, the blunette could already feel the tension building up in his jaw bone. He hated her outbursts; it made him feel physically sick._

"_Why the hell do you care?" He snapped back silently under his breath, all too fearful to provoke her any further. Grimmjow hated being yelled at, but he also hated the suffocation of his own cowardice._

"_Care? Why the hell do I care? All I fucking do is care about you. You think you can fucking walk around the streets like a fucking adult when you're nothing but a child?"_

_It became apparent to Grimmjow at this point, her sober outbursts were much more aggressive than her alcoholic temperaments. __Another loud smack ruptured through the air, she slammed down on the table again._

"_Look at me when I fucking talk!"_

_On command, his gaze unwillingly moved onto his mothers, her brown eyes and white teeth were bearing like an animal going in for the kill. She was vicious when she was angered and the blunette couldn't surface any courage to talk back._

_The woman was his own kryptonite, a potent poison that paralysed any nerve or reaction to flee. __She stepped over to him, her large form towering above Grimmjow's. She wasn't effeminate like most mothers' he knew, but she was larger with black hair and a slightly rounded face._

_He inwardly sicked at the site of her, the wretched stench of decaying alcohol flooding out from her mouth was even worse._

"_If you're a real man you would've faced up to your problems, you're nothing like your father." The woman that said she supposedly 'cared' about him only a few minutes early, shoved him aggressively into the wall._

"_If I catch you sneaking out again I'll break your fucking bones you hear?"_

_Grimmjow whimpered a little from amongst the floor, his mother never paid any remorse for her abusive actions. He heard the door slam, his arm and head were pounding with profuse aches and pains. _

_Whatever hope he had for a quick escape in the morning was defused like a bomb, the blunette's life was fucking shit._

_Blue eyes began to water as he continued to lie there on the floor, the silence pervading his thoughts. The pain would normally make him cry out and beg for rescue, but it was a pathetic plight._

_It was weak._

_He hobbled upwards and dragged his mangled body across to his bedroom, stomach churning. Grimmjow threw himself gently onto the bed and whimpered out into the silence… _

"_Daddy?"_

* * *

Playing it over a few times in his head, the inmate came to the conclusion that the doctor thought he cared about him. Nobody _ever_ cared about him, he was always treated like a fucking waste and he wouldn't let someone encroach on what he'd become now.

Watching the orange haired prick trail along the court yards, the site of the bastard seethed into his system.

He fisted the air a little as he walked off, Grimmjow was longing for a cigarette to reduce the stress of this place and the people he couldn't stand sight of.

"Move cock suckers." He shouted out, the inmates that were originally blocking his path parted in haste like the red sea. Already a couple days into the change of scenery, the blunette refused to participate in any down time or make conversation with anyone. Shiro had already stretched his patience, and now that the Doctor was back parading around on his high horse, it began nudging his rage.

Already disliking the clothes, the cells and the tattered bed he slept on at night – things became apparent to Grimmjow when he noticed the people here were far by the worst feature he'd experienced in any prison.

"I'm not gonna last another fuckin' year in this place if those dog wanking pricks keep mocking me." He muttered through his clenched teeth, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques already rejected the place and the people in it. Especially that white haired rapist and the fucking doctor.

* * *

**Finally, I was able to chew something out after my hiatus. Hopefully you enjoyed all of your Christmas' and New Year's.**

**Thanks again!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

Everyday spent in the Soul Society was slowly breaking his sanity. Grimmjow couldn't fucking take half the shit in this place any more. Almost a month had passed since his transfer and every little thing pushed Grimmjow to the edge.

Spending most of his time isolated from other inmates, Grimmjow was trying to avoid conflict. It wasn't that he didn't care if he got in trouble, he wanted out from this hole even more than he originally thought. If the thin ice he was already walking on shattered, he would lose the parole venture he was granted during his sentence.

It had been a long time since he spent his days on the streets as a criminal, Grimmjow was a gang-lord. However, being imprisoned for so long bought many changes amongst the criminal hierarchy. Even though he was in prison, Grimmjow was still feared. Some of the low-key thugs were brave – at least they thought they were. In his day as Sexta, nobody fucked with him – most of the other inmates realized this, but the handful of dumbshits in this place pressed those boundaries.

He had to put a stop to this bullshit because, nothing changed that much – not to him. The piss weak criminals were banding together to try and make his conviction a living hell. Grimmjow never let anyone hold the guillotine over his head, or at least he tried his best not to.

Several times in the past week Grimmjow had alterations with these gutless men. Once in the shower and twice in the corridors during lock down, they came in groups of three and four. They claimed that he was some big '_hotshot_' and had no reason to be feared in here. In their groups they tried to humiliate him through rape and force in numbers. Brute force was futile against the blunette inmate; being ranked the Sexta in Aizen's Espada wasn't because he had a pretty face. Grimmjow was amongst the strongest of fighters and killers in the Espada, and just before he transferred into the Soul Society – the Chinese whispers of his crimes had already jumped from ear to ear like a fanfare.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was coming.

Gutless thugs and scum, he hated them. Grimmjow detested rape which was the only shred of morality left in him, Grimmjow had killed in cold blood before, and pounding his fists into the few men on both occasions was no different to the people he killed really. After beating up the men, some dentist from Tokyo would probably have a fun time filling in the teeth of the wannabe rapists he struck down.

He smiled at the satisfaction he got from this, violence had always soothed his temper and after wiping away the blood from his fists, it felt like a crack high. Everything was at ease in the blunette's mind, and Grimmjow walked away knowing his position in this place would be reaffirmed.

Touch him and die.

Thugs were easy to deal with, but there was still another two problems. Problems that aroused themselves from the very start of his transfer; that rapist Shirosaki and that fucking Doctor.

They were a hindrance and proverbial thorn in Grimmjow's side, Shirosaki lacked fear and was just as heartless as Grimmjow. The thing was, Shirosaki was sly – from the moment he met him all those years ago, Shirosaki had always been able to evade the system. But when things turned sour, Shirosaki had changed into the demonic rapist he was today. Always calculating and deceiving behind that deathly semblance of humor and lies, a manipulator. Grimmjow's blood boiled every single time he took sight of that white hair, after what Shirosaki did to him – he became a distrustful heartbreak. When Shiro confronted him in the prison cafeteria that day, Grimmjow's own control snapped. His entire volition was laid to ruins like the relics of Pompeii. Shiro was someone who should be put down, he was a ghost, a hollow… Shiro was a demon without a heart.

And demons needed to be exercised.

When Grimmjow's thirst for blood kicked in, his flaring nostrils indicated a violent motor drive. Adrenaline coursed through his body as Grimmjow heard the painful crack of Shiro's own nose meeting the surface of the table top. Blood lightly trickled down from the albino's abused face, it was exhilarating; Grimmjow wanted nothing more than to cause excruciating war torture to the fiend… But the Soul Society wasn't the time nor place.

Then there was Ichigo Kurosaki. The name, face and colour of his hair grilled Grimmjow's rage to an unknown Fahrenheit. Hate was too much of a euphemism to describe why he loathed the Doctor. Upon their first meeting Grimmjow knew he would hate the man, he could sense it in the air. Doctors were always uptight prissy faggots who thought they were better than everyone else. Saving lives and doing the world good – what bullshit. That wasn't the only reason though, the way he looked at him. The moment they made eye contact with each other, Grimmjow found glimmers of sympathy and remorse expressed through the orangette's eyes. Sympathy and remorse – that was just abstract bullshit and an excuse, it made him chortle. What was sympathy and what was the point of feeling remorse for what you did? Everything Grimmjow did, everything he fought for always blew up in his face anyway, so why bother caring for other's when you should only care for yourself? Grimmjow learnt this lesson the hard way, _many_ times over.

Now leaning against the railing in the courtyards of the prison, he flicked his hair away in a wistful fashion. With his arms folded, he took note of how warm the day was. Grimmjow needed a release from all of this; he needed an escape from the bullshit he was exiled to.

A cigarette.

The cancerous tobacco was the only sanctuary he could find now. Thinking of the bitter sweet taste bought him a solemn comfort. Grimmjow had experienced many types of substance in his life; he'd also been rehabilitated for most of it too. He didn't care that he was destroying his body at the time, hell, Grimmjow didn't care now. Cigarettes were a safety net, something that substituted the craziness he lived through and would definitely act as a stress reliever in the Soul Society.

Lock down was approaching, after being let out of his cell Grimmjow managed his way from the crowds to the back of the furthest courtyard. He kept out of sight then, avoiding the trouble that always blew his way, but he had his mind focused on _one_ thing now.

"You!" A familiar voice barked. "Prisoners are about to be sent back into their cells, move the hell along."

With a slow narrow of his eyes, Grimmjow examined the guard shouting at him. He was about the same height as Grimmjow and the man had a bald head. That was the same bastard from the Doctor's Station. The attitude the guard presented pissed the blunette right off, the man walked with an overconfident stride – thinking he was invincible.

If needed, Grimmjow could crush him and prove the bald man wrong. Nobody could defeat the Sexta.

"Don't stand there like a deaf post, get a fuckin' move on." Baldy shouted again, Grimmjow wanted nothing more than his fist in his face. That would lead to another beat down and probably an isolation sentence though, stupid.

"Tch, do me a fuckin' favour and give it a rest. I was goin' anyway." He said in a deep baritone, Grimmjow was going to avoid another alteration for the time being.

Ignoring the guard bickering back, Grimmjow knew they were nothing more than pathetic sheep. Trailing back over through the centre of the courtyard, the sun continued to beat down on Grimmjow. He would kill to get out of this place.

"Eleven months…" He reminded himself.

* * *

Ichigo wouldn't call himself patient. In fact, most of the time he was quite the opposite, it'd been a long day for him in the Soul Society. There were various patients and routine checkups that needed to be complete, and to top it all off – most of these patients were acting extremely violent and difficult.

When this happened now, it pained the Doctor.

Ever since Grimmjow had threatened Ichigo's life, memories of his mother's death played on his mind more and more. At first the clash between Doctor and criminal didn't really affect him, much. But as the days stretched onto weeks since that event, Ichigo would be lying now if he said that this event hadn't impacted at all.

Over and over like a bad record.

This is why he was impatient. Ichigo slowly relied more and more on Renji in the past month or so, Ichigo hadn't been here a year and already, this place was sending him mad. Maybe Tatsuki was right all along?

The orangette shook the negativity away, he couldn't think like that. But Renji needed to hurry the hell up. 3:50PM, and Ichigo was busting to get out of the place, and the only reason why he wasn't leaving was because Renji had wandered off and Ichigo refused to walk around the corridors by himself during prisoner release. All of a sudden Ichigo did feel like a helpless child, to be more specific; _that_ helpless snivelling boy from sixteen years ago.

Anxiety sucked, Ichigo wasn't weak though – it was just that the blue haired inmate became a disheveled worry when moving around the prison. After what the albino Shirosaki had said to him and the fact that Kensei kept Renji close, the connotations seemed obvious. If Ichigo's chi could be read off a feng shui board, it would be whack and completely out of sync.

This wasn't Ichigo at all, in fact, the way he'd been behaving in the last few weeks was completely out of character from his normal behavior. So why was it, above all the feelings of coercion he was feeling as a result of the incident with Grimmjow – that Ichigo felt something more? Many times over Ichigo questioned it, was there something there to be saved? Did Ichigo really think himself stupid over the sleepless nights, that Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was redeemable?

Moral and ethics played a strong role in Ichigo's life since his childhood, the orangette believed everyone was redeemable. However the feelings and vibe he received from Grimmjow was _cold_, did Grimmjow not want to be redeemed?

Ichigo didn't understand, and he also didn't understand this acute obsession. With a grunt, Ichigo stomped the floor impatiently.

"Where the fuck are you Renji?" Ichigo questioned rhetorically. As if he could keep relying on the tattooed guard like this anymore. This cowardice presentation of himself was pathetic, he admitted that… But he hated the feelings he couldn't shake.

Footsteps were heard approaching the station's door. Ichigo muttered a finally underneath his breath.

"What in the hell took you so long?" The orangette questioned, he wasn't too pissed – just impatient.

"Me? I was talkin', why that desperate to go? I thought ya had the perfect job?" Renji bantered.

"I do, just had a rough day. Who would you be talking to in here? Have you forgotten that I'm ya only friend Renji?" Ichigo nudged with a smile while masking his worrisome expression.

"Don't flatter ya' self moron. I have other friends outside of you ya know." Renji said with a jaw splitting grin – "S'ides, I'm beat. Ya ready to go?"

It seemed as if both of them had a prolonged Friday. Ichigo answered his friend's question with a nod. Since Renji's shifts had been slowly matching his own stints over the last few weeks – Renji sometimes offered a lift to and from the Soul Society. He did just that this morning.

"Anyway, ya locked up and ready to kick off?"

"Yep. Sort of been looking forward to the weekend."

They both walked out of the station after Ichigo shut it down, departing for another week. Doctor Unohana was on shift for the weekend, Ichigo tried to ease the on-call fear he would sometimes receive in the early hours of the morning on a Saturday or Sunday.

"I've been meaning to ask ya Ichigo." Renji said huskily, Ichigo had learnt in the past few months that he would change his tone if he wanted something.

"Hnnn?"

"Well, ya wanna grab a beer later on?" The tattooed man asked almost shyly. Once upon a time Ichigo wouldn't really jump the gun to do something like this – but that was Ichigo in his Uni days, it'd been a long time since Ichigo went on a social call.

"Sure, why not!" Ichigo rang with excitement, both of them tapped down the stairs. The orangette didn't really drink, much, but he did want to get out after realizing how bored he got, isolated at home during his leave.

"There's a great pub in Tokyo, nothing too fancy. Kick back'n relax yeah?" He said with a grin, relaxing sounded good – perhaps a couple of drinks _would_ ease some of the thoughts that'd been ailing his mind.

The two continued down the corridor, Ichigo checked his blue pocket watch attached to his uniform's front pocket.

The blue gadget read 3:57PM.

There wasn't many inmates littering the halls and the site of the generic blue uniforms was devoid in Ichigo's mind. Everything was going to slide later on tonight, Ichigo actually couldn't wait.

"C'mon slowpoke, ya said ya wanted to get out of here fast. Don't fall behind." Renji pressed from a few meters away. The exit was a ways away down the hall, there was a lot of convenience that there wasn't a far walk to and fro to the administration building, from the prison. As the two approached the exit, Renji fished down into his pockets.

"You seriously keep those in your pocket all day?" Ichigo questioned – the smell of cigarettes made his stomach roll and churn like a clothes dryer. The smell reminded him of the only day of the year his father ever smoked.

"So what, I need one everyonce'n awhile. Why don't you have one, you'd be less uptight after it."

Ichigo watched as Renji bought the tobacco to his lips, plugging it into his mouth. With a flick of the lighter he lit it up.

"Not supposed to smoke in here by the way." Ichigo shot back, Renji could be an ass sometimes. The red head rolled his eyes while sucking down another draw.

"Anyway, hold this for me while I go pass over the slips to the next guard on shift." Renji said while shoving the packet of Mild Seven cigarettes into the orangette's chest.

"You can't smoke in there either." Ichigo chortled with a reminder; Renji twisted around and pulled the cigarette from his mouth.

"Fuckin' rules hold this as well."

"No way put it out." Ichigo complained, he refused to be seen holding something as vile as a cylinder stick of cancer. Ichigo was stubborn like that. The smell was intoxicatingly sickening, and the fact that he was a trained medical practitioner equalled bad reputation.

"I'm not wasting one of these, fuckin' expensive just hold it." Renji whined with a tangent demand, the tattooed guard was dynamic and this game of chase would be useless since they both wanted to leave.

"Arghh, fine." Ichigo snatched the cigarette from him and held it away from his face like a bad smelling diaper.

"Don't be afraid to help ya 'self Ichi, uptight, remember?" Renji bellowed a laugh while skipping off. As if Ichigo would be ever caught smoking anything like this, he shoved the remaining packet into his white coat.

Renji returned quickly, Ichigo handed the cigarette back. "Alright alright, let's move on out." Renji concluded by pushing open the doors in a commotion, treating the weekend like a teenager's holiday.

* * *

Things were fucked, literally. If it wasn't for the fact that nearly every time Grimmjow managed to swindle his temperaments, it just flared right back up.

Of course he was returned to his cell at the same time that faggot-ass Doctor was leaving. Every single fucking time Grimmjow crossed paths with him. Ichigo Kurosaki, the potent diesel that sparked his rage. Why was it that destiny or the Gods fucked with him?

And to top it all off, the object of his desire was being waved around in the cock sucker's hand – a cigarette. Maintaining his teetering pace towards the prison building – Grimmjow passively observed the Doctor from afar. He was walking with the red haired prick as well. Grimmjow didn't know what was burning inside of him though. Anger? Yes. Jealously? Because he had a cigarette, maybe. But any form of empathy? That was a big fat NO. Grimmjow hated the sight of him and it wasn't just twenty minutes earlier that his thoughts backtracked to both that girl raping prick and the Doctor. He looked like he had no fear in the world, no fear that he was protected by that tattooed freak or his scowling face. It didn't faze Grimmjow, he'd seen fear – he looked it right in the face and conquered it.

Grimmjow _killed_ fear.

But if one thing remained clear, he would teach that Doctor true fear. The bald headed guard screamed audibly from behind him "It's my ass on the line if you don't get back to your fuckin' cell fast enough. Hurry it up dickhead." His words were irrelevant, the blunette was too focused on gaining both objects of his desire.

There were many faults to Grimmjow, he even admitted this himself. Putting the past to rest was one, he could overlook that albino rapist for now. Hunting down the good Doctor was another game in itself, a game of paranoia and scare tactics.

It wouldn't land him in too much trouble since it wouldn't be perceived as direct contact, Kensei Muguruma wasn't the brightest star in the sky and Grimmjow still wanted his parole release. So a little mind fuck might get him far and torturing the Doctor mentally, seemed more of a challenge than physically harming him, which would come later.

Grimmjow walked into the prison building and down towards the cells, he was no longer _that _boy any more and innocence was just a lie. The Doctor was naive to think he could help Grimmjow, he would see to it that the Doctor was broken like he promised in their first meeting, he knew what he was going to do.

* * *

**Alright, done! You will all enjoy the next instalment, I think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

In case you guys don't notice, there's a two year time skip in the flash backs.

* * *

_**Osaka Japan 13 years earlier.**_

_For awhile now, things rarely ever changed. The teenage boy found it hard to fit in anywhere; he literally couldn't blend into the backdrop of society – that would be too much to ask for. He cursed his parent's for giving birth to such a vile child, always wandering the city like a ghost, he hated himself. His hair made him stand out, but it was nothing in comparison to the living beacon he really was._

_Lots of times he made attempts to fit in, ever since he started school no one really ever liked him. Living in Osaka was one thing for the well off, but actually being disharmomised from any form of friendship or social acknowledgement was a knife to the heart._

_No friends, not a proper family and what's more was the burning desire to just be normal. Why couldn't he fit in at all? Why couldn't the boy find someone to love him or to befriend him?_

_He was a monstrosity, that's why. His parent's didn't care about him; he hated his father and what's more was, his mother was an apparition that resided in the darkest recesses of his mind. He hardly knew her._

_No one cared to shoot a glance at the sunken child that wandered home every day with his head half masked. Avoiding the copious amounts of stares that he hated; cold piercing eyes from bystanders made him stick out like a sore thumb, always judging. _

_Sometimes when he lied in bed at night, he pondered why life was so cruel to people who were undeserving. Why was it that his father's love was really just gift wrapped disappointment and disdain? His mother was just a ghost like him, no one really cared, so why did he bother living any more?_

_Solitude was the only thing that befriended him for a time, he was a school yard freak and delinquent. Who'd want to be seen with one of those?_

_But solitude slowly grew into discomfort and discomfort changed him – For a kid of sixteen who'd only ever known loneliness, he really started to try. _

_And try, and try, and try very hard._

_He wasn't dumb, never dumb at all. Math, Japanese, history, commerce and even an interest in medicine – he excelled at all of these on a genius level. Even picking up the basics of the English language, in hopes that he could one day impress the phantom memories of his mother that haunted his mind._

_His father was never proud of him nor did he even care about his grades, always too busy with his newly established social life. Wining and dining while he should have been looking after his son._

_He was a fucking joke anyway. He realized that no matter what he did, nobody cared. He remained that same old pallid freak to the masses of people that took sight of him each and every day._

_Being smarter than the average college student meant nothing at all at his age, because he was cast into the foreground of society – spurned at and trampled upon. __He then started to realize he needed to make a different change, a change that would help him fit in. Maybe even get people to notice him underneath his external appearance everyone always took to face value._

_And he would keep making changes, for better or worse._

* * *

Late night drinking.

That wasn't Ichigo, it'd never been his style really. But there was an intriguing comfort when he was able to wind down enough and overcome his initial anxiety to go out. He'd been looking forward to it ever since he clocked off. This was still something he'd admittedly had no experience in, with university and medical studies there wasn't much time.

But Ichigo enjoyed every second of it, just '_letting loose'_. Saying that seemed awfully stereotyped, to say the least, but the entire pub setting was new and refreshing – despite Renji's incessant nagging when he refused to '_have a drink_'. Ichigo didn't touch alcohol… Often; the liquid reminded him of something he would much rather forget.

Bypassing those memories; sitting on the rustic stools near the counter next to Renji, Ichigo realized after being deprived of friendship for so long – he bottled up a lot of emotions like pent up steam in a boiling kettle.

Just the two of them, out of the Soul Society's oppressive confides. Even for an employee it did feel like they were imprisoned there sometimes, though Ichigo was glad he enjoyed his job, mostly.

"Do 'ya think it's gettin' late Ichi…? Do you wanna go home?" Renji slurred, he had quite the fill on Sapporo black label. Who knew he could drink that much?

This didn't come as a shock to Ichigo though.

"Up to you, I'm enjoying myself either way." Ichigo replied, he never knew how much of a '_get goer_' this guy could be. He'd informed him awhile back that he used to party a lot in his younger days, it just always seemed as if Renji wasn't as old as he really was.

"Heh?" It's a yes or no answer, besides if you wanna stay your gonna have to have a _drinnnnnk_." He coaxed Ichigo on the same topic for the millionth time. Ichigo worked out all too soon that for Renji, it wasn't real fun until both of you were smashed off your faces. The way he presented himself now, when compared to the Soul Society, was completely different.

One moment he was the seriously tough prison officer, next he was almost a child like.

"I'm good Renji, its fine. Besides, who's going to look after you when you have one hell of a hangover tomorrow?"

"Eh? Ya don't think I can handle myself? Pfft, you know nothin' _kid_." Renji grinned while taking another sip of his beer. "N I got work tomorra' anyway."

"Tomorrow… What? I thought we were both free?" He questioned, the smell of alcohol was potent on Renji's breathe like an intoxicated drunk. This was his eleventh beer, Renji was truly fairing well for all the alcohol he consumed.

"Ikkaku Called me up jus' before we left, it's a night shift. Don't mind." He abbreviated.

Ichigo nodded in response, there was no point in arguing his decision. The bar was starting to clear out now. They'd been here for well over two hours now and it was almost 1:00AM.

"This is a great place by the way, how'd you find it?" Ichigo asked.

"_Loooooooong_ story, dude I almost always come here." Renji maintained his childishness.

"He's not lying ya know, he and his friends used to always come here." The bartender's voice interjected their conversation. He spun his head to face the bartender, the man was wearing a green bandanna that covered most of his hair and forehead. Ichigo figured the casualness suited the job.

"Really?" Ichigo questioned almost dumbly.

"Yeah I've consider him a regular for a few years now." The bartender replied while passing a drink to Ichigo. He watched the man wink at him. "S' from the lovely lady sitting over there." He pointed while retracting his arm from over the bench. He, like Renji; both had jaw splitting smiles on their faces.

"What!?" He questioned Renji, not even bothering to seek out the woman who sent him a drink.

Not interested.

"I can understand if ya don't wanna drive me home any more, I'll get a cab." He nudged Ichigo, again, he wasn't interested but he couldn't think of a way to explain this particular topic to Renji.

"Uhh." He stammered awkwardly – "I'm not really up for _that_ tonight." Saying this in front of Renji made him feel like a prude, he didn't want Renji to get the wrong idea about him.

"Eh? You got yourself a girlfriend I don't know about?" That domineering smile still remained stale on his face.

"Girlfriend? No, just not interested."

Renji took another swig from his glass. "Fair enough, your loss I guess. Anyway wanna head back now? Think I'm at my limit for the night." He sighed contentedly, after a few hours of mindless chatter and unwinding, Ichigo had to return to reality after all.

"Sure I guess."

Both of them stood up and Renji tipped the bar-tender, he teetered like a see-saw alongside Ichigo. He knew that Renji was no lightweight at all, Renji slunk his arm around Ichigo as he struggled to support both their movements.

"_Haaaaad_ a good night Ichi, thanks for this." The smell of malted alcohol assaulted Ichigo's senses, it again reminded him of _that_ time.

"Ease up now idiot, don't go hurting yourself we're nearly to your car anyway."

Stumbling along with Renji attached to his hip, he paved his and Renji's way further towards the car. Opening it, he eased Renji in and pulled into the car himself. Igniting the engine, Renji shifted beside him and rested his head on his shoulder. Red haired flowed out from his head like an extravagant grassfire.

For a gruff prison guard, he was sound as asleep like a baby… If he was sucking on his thumb, it would've surely completed the childishness the man maintained.

Ichigo felt tired himself, it had been a great night though. Something he couldn't compare much more to.

Steering the car onto the road, reality already set in after departing his temporary haven – the feelings of coercion returned for a short time. The only difference was, another painful memory returned – one with alcohol induced foolishness.

* * *

_**Osaka Japan 13 years earlier.**_

_Months had gone by, his past attempts to normalise himself to fit in amongst people remained, futile. Scribed into his mind like words on a diary, still nobody seemed to care about him, acknowledge him or even dip their heads to say hello._

_It wouldn't take a genius like him to work out that he was the cause for the rejection, the reason why people stared, laughed, pointed and threw him out on his ass._

_He'd been walking around with his hands in his pockets all afternoon, taking to the back streets so he wouldn't acquire any more prejudice. Spending most of his life locked up on weekends because he had no one to mess around with. The teenager wallowed in his own silence, stereotypically kicking the proverbial can – a symbol of his own loneliness._

_Walking around for hours wasn't really taxing in the cool climate of Osaka, with no destination in mind he just wandered like a stray cat. No general thoughts and no concerns, it was almost therapeutic for him to forget about the hardships he endured._

_This day felt slightly different though, he would usually take the left near the local supermarket in his suburb and walk around the construction sites. However, on slight impulse he decided to make a right._

_There were a lot of nightclubs and bars in this general direction, he'd never really been down here before – most of the back-streets were littered with seedy drug dealers and thugs. Why should he care though? There wouldn't be any irony in being harassed by them like he was with 'normal' people anyway. So the odds remained the same no matter which direction he took._

_Nobody cared._

_He continued along, idly hunched in a blue hooded jacket covering most of hair. It was cold, but the coldness he experienced was even worse. Names, stares and people were all an incomparable bitter frost – the climate was nothing more than nature's way of conveying its own hate for him anyway._

_Staring at the ground, he instinctively manoeuvred around the few people he did encounter. There was a lot of laughter and background noise, kind of a new setting all together for the generally quiet shut up weekends he spent locked away in his room, and himself._

_The lonely teenager came to a crashing halt._

"_Fuck." He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose – the guy he ran into was obviously big… He sighed knowing he'd probably get hit or beat up on. Of course he had to fucking take a different direction, his right was already turning out to be a wrong._

"_S-sorry." He whispered._

"_You okay there kid?" The man with a husky voice asked, he was quite shocked to see someone even demonstrate remote kindness._

"'_M fine." He replied while moving around the person he ran into, a stiff hand grabbed his shoulder stopping him in his tracks._

"_Woah hold on there kid, you okay?" He reiterated with genuine concern._

_The teenager shoved his hand off. "I'm fucking fantastic." He replied with obvious sarcasm._

"_No need to get yourself in a rut, you cold?"_

_For someone who was nothing but a stranger to him, he didn't quite understand why he cared._

"_So what if I am?"_

"_Hey… You don't need to go and give everyone the cold shoulder ya' know. How old are you anyway?"_

_He gave the stranger an awkward stare, the man had broad shoulders and was clad in a leather jacket with a fur collar. It looked synthetic. _

"_Turned seventeen a month ago." He normally wouldn't reply to anyone given the fact that everyone usually spoke hate and '_they_'_,_ were usually the ones giving him the cold shoulder – but he jumped on board anyway._

"_Eh, not as young as I expected. Why don't you come inside if ya cold, ya parents won't mind right?"_

_His parents… He inwardly scoffed, as if any of them even had the time for him._

"_Sure." He muttered with a little distrust._

_They walked in to a nearby nightclub, there were only a few people in it. They appeared to be workers, he figured this was the set up for the club since most partygoers were nocturnal._

"_Ya wanna drink?" He asked while stepping behind the bar. The teenager just gawked at him._

"_A drink? Are you fuckin' stupid? I'm seventeen…" He said confoundedly, from a young age people always said 'respect your elders', but how could he do such a thing when people could be so dubious?_

"_Eh? You're as fierce as you look, I like that." He poured a glass full of some blue liquid and set it on the counter. The man nodded with a smile. "Why should it matter anyway? It'll be our secret." The man put his index finger to his lips in a sarcastic 'shush' gesture._

_The man slid the glass closer to him. He had both elbows resting on the counter just staring at the alcohol. He'd never tried anything like this before, it never interested him._

"_Up to you, I could get ya some milk or somethin'." He said almost humorously._

_It sounded like the man was making fun of him, he hated that. Taking the glass in hand, he downed the liquid in a backwash. It slid down his throat and left a slight burning sensation in his throat._

"_Woah, if ya wanted a shot I could've given ya one." He smiled. "Ginjo by the way." Ginjo held out his hand and the slightly buzzed teen shook it. He wiped the remnants of liquid onto his arm._

_They conversed for awhile, he learnt that the man was twenty four and already managed a few business degrees by the time he finished school. The club they sat in was called xCUTION and he had numerous employees working under him. _

_Despite the seven years age difference, he found the man quite interesting and he had a lot of dubious intellect. They shared a few drinks between them, he wouldn't say he was drunk or prone to the effects of alcohol or anything… He felt completely fine, though he was tired and slightly buzzed. By that default, he probably was feeling something._

_They'd been talking and drinking for almost an hour and a half now. The time was almost nine and Ginjo said he was about to open shop._

"_Hey, if you don't have a place to crash tonight, you can come back to mine?" Ginjo questioned, he noticed his face lit up like a light bulb. The man was up to something and the teen didn't want to jump ship and go anywhere with a stranger… But this was the first person who had truly _ever_ been genuine to him. Never once did Ginjo judge him in the hour and a half they'd been speaking, this feeling was almost incomprehensible – he'd never felt it before._

_Happiness is what it felt like._

"_Okay." He said with a slur, maybe he was wrong… The effects seemed to be setting in already._

"_Lemme help ya up."_

_Ginjo walked around and exited the bar. "Put ya hand around my shoulder if you don't feel up to walking, shouldn't of given ya that much to drink." He said while shaking his head, Ginjo was concerned… _

"_I'm fine, really… Shoulda known my limit." He stood up off the stool with his arm around Ginjo's neck, the fur collar felt cuddly soft._

"_Alright, it's not too far from here actually – down the street really."_

_They both walked out of the bar, the man named Giriko was running the place tonight. He noticed how Ginjo had a nice sense of leadership, he still felt as if he was up to something – but the teen trampled that thought. Ginjo took off his coat and wrapped it around the teen's own shoulders._

_It was a short walk but they slowly but surely made it to his apartment. It wasn't too shabby and was well kempt, he didn't expect anything less from a nightclub manager and owner._

"_Make yourself at home." Ginjo said._

_Making his way over to the leather lounge, he slouched down into it and relaxed – Ginjo's jacket still around him. It smelt of a robust cologne from the seventies. The man had been absent for some time and he was starting to feel tired. _

_Ginjo walked out of his room, wearing only a white tank top – it seemed quite strange for a frosted November night, but it was quite warm inside. _

"_Don't go to sleep on me." He chuckled, yeah… He really did have a little too much to drink. Ginjo sat down next to him and slugged his left arm over his own shoulder._

_Awkward moments passed and then the man made a slow contact with his face, Ginjo's lips… Were on his own?  
_

_The entire experience felt intimately strange… Ginjo slowly broke the contact and opened his eyes._

"_Did I get the wrong idea?" He questioned with disappointment and worry._

_He remained silent, did the man get the wrong idea? It surely didn't feel like that, the kiss was weird but… He didn't mind it at all._

"_No?" He whispered. _

"_Doesn't seem that way kid, if you aren't comfortable…"_

"_No it's fine, really – just never done anything like this before." He said while moving himself closer to Ginjo – the man was quite warm, he had never given men or women second thought, but the contact was like drinking warm tea._

"_If you say so." Ginjo said, his previous worry was washed away with that man's lopsided grin. Flushed lips made contact with Ginjo's, they were gently pressing up against each other. He questioned the ground breaking feelings that were swarming his insides._

_ Arousal? Yes, but there was something more. In the few hours he knew Ginjo – he thought him to be an honest man and couldn't quite mark what he was feeling for him._

_He let up and allowed Ginjo complete access into his mouth, Ginjo's own wet appendage felt pert while it explored every inch and crevice - steam rolling him from top to bottom and side to side. _

"_There's a packet of condoms in my bench drawer if you wanted to take this further?" Ginjo asked while moving his fingers sensually around his neck. Everything felt content and in his slightly clouded state of mind, he didn't care at all. He wanted to make a change for himself all those months ago, by _any_ means necessary._

"_Okay."_

_Both of them moved their way to Ginjo's bedroom, the lights were already shut off and he couldn't take note of any features. He didn't care though; his focused was maintained on something else. Something that was erotically stoking the embers of desire within. _

_He sat on Ginjo's bed, he lied back onto the silken sheets – Ginjo crawled above him, pushing his lips onto the teen. This entire experience was enlightening – he'd learnt and experienced many things in his life. Mostly bad, but what he was doing with Ginjo, right now – even if he had no experience… Outweighed everything he had been prone to before, abuse and prejudice was cast aside with each item of clothing removed from his body. T__he teen was already mirroring Ginjo's own movements and touches. _

_This felt so right._

"_Damn kid." He commented, moving his calloused hands up the teen's body. "You're a natural I'll give ya that much." Ginjo chuckled._

"_Following your lead." He replied sarcastically, he didn't feel embarrassed at all – everything seemed to fit in place like a well played game of tetras. Maybe things were already looking up?_

_Ginjo trailed kisses down his abdomen, making his way to his briefs. Ginjo removed them exposing his profusely hard member, the sudden contact it made with the air was jolting and electricity sung through him._

_Ginjo removed his own, they were now completely exposed to each other. He knew what was coming next, even an animal could play connect the dots and figure out what to do. Ginjo reached over to the bed side drawer and fondled around inside of it, the sounds of paraphernalia rioting inside the drawer._

_He marvelled the outer shades of the man's body, Ginjo was fit and well kempt. His colossal pectorals and compact abs were distilled into his mind, he couldn't take his thoughts off the modern day Hercules in front of him. Sullen eyes were glued to him with an invisible adhesive. _

_A cap flipped opened and Ginjo spoke. "Ya know what's next right?"_

"_Of course." He replied knowingly, even though he'd never been exposed to this type of experience before – it was only logical that he knew they were going to have sex the only way two men could._

_Ginjo pushed two fingers up against his entrance and slowly stretched his insides. Initially, the sensations were foreign. Completely alien, but he relaxed into them – silently mewling every time the Ginjo's stubbed fingers applied more force. The feeling of being stretched was all too arousing. __Ginjo pulled out, there were no more words shared between them. He prepared himself for what was coming, something that was unthinkable but desperately needed for him now._

_Plastic was torn off the condom wrapper and he could faintly see Ginjo slip it on his protruding member._

"_Alright, just relax yourself okay?" _

_With a gentle touch to Ginjo's arm, the teen quickened their pace. The man slowly pressed in, there was no pain like he expected – that same foreign sensation returned, yet it had more resonance. _

_Ginjo slowly penetrated him._

_They both grunted and moaned each time Ginjo thrust in and out of him, the experience was all too enjoyable – never had anyone made him feel this carefree and content. It was always hate and disdain, but Ginjo seemed and definitely felt different towards him._

"_Damn kid, fuck." He moaned out, he mimicked the same pleasurable moans like a parakeet. Heat was pulsing throughout his body and he convulsed even further. __Ginjo continued on, each time he withdrew his member crumbled the teens control. For a seventeen year old guy, he sure maintained stamina._

"_Shit, Ginjo." He wailed – words cascaded from his mouth, he needed Ginjo to thrust harder, he moved his hands up to pull him down closer to his body. __Ginjo responded accordingly, adjusting his thrust to push up against his his own silken insides - making more contact with his prostate. _

_Truly amazing._

"_Yes, fuck." Ginjo moaned louder, he continued holding Ginjo closer to himself while __gasping and panting, he was so close to cumming._

"_Ginjo, fuck, yes." He cried out. Never before had he ever called someone's name out with so much ecstasy. Those iron willed walls of defence the teen had created, were becoming rubble underneath the pleasure._

"_That's it kid, a little bit longer." Ginjo continued, those magnetic thrusts were blinding, Ginjo's arm lightly rested on his chest while the man finished him off._

_The sensations of sex combined with alcoholically distorted thoughts were fused into one. This unknown feeling of warmth was always in his prayers and those cries for help were kindly answered. The bi-product of their activities shot out in between both of their chests. Ginjo moaned lightly into his ear while nibbling on the shell._

_His chest was heaving, never before had he experienced this. Sex, and feel so complete and indifferent from himself. His entire body was numb as the ambiance of his orgasm rebounded within him, he could feel Ginjo's lips press into his neck as he mumbled a deep 'mmm'._

_Silence coerced the room, they didn't exchange words. Ginjo's soft snores could be heard beside him. In the moment, he felt truly harmonised. Ginjo didn't chew him up and spit him out like other's always had, in fact – the man draped a hand across his chest in a protective manner. He rested well into the moulded form they created in the sheets, pressed up against the man's warm torso._

_That change of direction at the supermarket all those hours ago, was no wrong footing._

_Acceptance was one thing but Shiro knew this is what it felt like to belong._

* * *

**Thanks again.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

Nocturnal life.

Grimmjow found himself resorting to late night workouts in his confinement, the aphotic light of the cellblocks cloaked the various pushups he routinely did. There really wasn't much more to his imprisonment, other than being expected to wallow in self pity for countless years like a punished child sent to their room, it was utter crap. Never once did he wallow nor did he regret; Grimmjow strived.

When he was maintained in Osaka's high class security prison, there were things he wanted to achieve upon release. Continually counting the stroke of each minute hand, and biding his time – Grimmjow valued how much of a virtue _learnt_ patience was. Particularly after being re-educated by that impish hat wearing prick, his patience was soon birthed from the antagonizing revenge he aspired for, six years from then.

Reiteration, really.

Grimmjow wanted to revisit the people that shattered his once fragile complexion of glass. Every detail was mind mapped down to the tiniest granules of thought, he was decisive; Grimmjow wanted to come face to face with the people that scratched his back in the past.

With the cold jagged edges of a knife etched into his skin like battle scars.

He'd rarely ever contemplated and carried out murder, only when he had to. But when he got out, did he have murder in mind, the thirst for blood was almost omnipresent in his mind since then. The endless years of heartache, distrust and lies was a consecutive domino effect that birthed the inner perilous animal who was Grimmjow now. He was by no means a sociopath, not like Shirosaki – Grimmjow wasn't demonically fucked up like he was.

The scars that resounded on his sweltering body, were artefacts of the past; an affliction from six years ago. Blood, death and torture would only appraise his convictions now, semblance of trust and friendship he invested time into came to a crashing halt back then.

Though, cataclysmic betrayal was banked away inside of him, compounding until a later date. Grimmjow was now devising a game, something sadistic enough that he knew he would thoroughly enjoy. He was sure by this point that Shirosaki's own influence had rubbed off on him from those faded days he befriended him, or maybe it was the various years of cocaine usage that'd unscrewed a few nuts and bolts. But he knew that he wasn't indefinitely sinking down to the demonic level of a sociopath, no; Grimmjow took aim for his targets instead.

This game was definitely three players. Whether _they _knew or not was beyond his concern, whoever self-destructed first under the suffocating tidal waves of duress was the loser – him being the game maker, had nothing to lose. That ship had set sail almost sixteen years earlier anyway.

Brooding within himself; the physical exertion made his body tremble, losing count after the ninth set of push-ups sweat began to cascade down the gradients of his body. Swabbing the condensation of effort and decisiveness from his torso, Grimmjow flunked onto the bed. Folding his hands behind his head in a make shift pillow, Grimmjow knew that in the long haul of things – time was never really precious to him, but he'd only realised in recent years that the minutes of the day moved idly slow when confined.

Desire ever burned for _those_ cigarettes.

* * *

_**Osaka Japan 12 years earlier.**_

_Nudge after nudge, Grimmjow was slowly drawn from his rest, like a bear from winter hibernation. _

"_Wake up ya lazy ass." An almost disembodied voice commanded him. He slowly shifted upright while shovelling the sleep from his eyes._

"_Whadd'ya want?" He deadpanned tiredly, everything was fuzzy while his beer goggle vision was switched on. _

"_You've either been smokin' too much or jus' completely stupid." Nnoitora retorted sarcastically, he was probably right though – he did hit up on a large amount of weed before awkwardly stumbling over to Nnoitora's house the night before._

"'_M not stupid…" Grimmjow defended – "Ya just woke me up early." _

"_Hell nah, you are stupid – you don' even know what day it is…" Nnoitora trailed off. Come to think of it, he literally didn't know what day it was – the days of the week slowly became confusing and meaningless after awhile. Grimmjow stared dimly at Nnoitora, muscles feeling numbingly light and his head was sore._

_Oh yeah, he fought with his mother once again._

"_It's ya birthday jackass." Nnoitora said while pulling his smile into a sharp piano tooth grin. His birthday, the thought never even crossed his mind over the past few weeks. Too many painful memories were excavated from the derbies. _

"_Hear me out…" Nnoitora followed up – "I know ya don' like ya birthday 'n all but jus' listen. Tonight, we're gonna go somewhere cool so get ya shit together and meet me back here in a few, k?"_

_The bastard wasn't even giving Grimmjow a few more minutes to sleep and rest, judging by the shades of orange radiating from the blinds – it was sometime during the afternoon or late evening. _

"_Ugh…" Grimmjow complained while shifting out of Nnoitora's bed. "Whatever, thanks again for lettin' me stay." Nnoitora was always hospitable, he was like an over caring bread and breakfast owner – always looking out for him though. Grimmjow was glad he had someone like Nnoitora, someone to trust and mutually look out for._

"_Ya got a few hours Grimm, ya slept quite a bit but I promise you'll enjoy tonight." _

_By that point Grimmjow upped out of Nnoitora's, knowing that he would have no choice in the matter anyway. Grimmjow fixed himself up before he made his way home, he needed to collect a good change of clothes. It was a short walk since he wanted to conserve as much time as he could, in a way, he was kind of looking forward to what Nnoitora had in stock. For the past few years, they always avoided the birthday subject – but it seemed awfully curious._

_Last night had been a total ruin for him though, after a scolding clash with his mother; the bitch ended up wailing at him like a banshee on dangerous amounts of crack. One of the saucepans she hurtled struck the right side of his head. Grimmjow was no foreigner to pain, but wrath was deadly – especially at the calloused hands of his mother. _

_After popping a few tabs of Tramadol he swiped from his mother's drawer a few nights before, Grimmjow soon realised that the emotional damage was all skin and bone – no painkiller could ever alleviate scars running _that_ deep. _

_Once he made it to his house – Grimmjow high-tailed it into his room, fishing through his drawers for some clean clothes. Playing lucky dip with his hands, he grabbed whatever he could and sped out faster than a pin drop. There was no heart in his home, rather a dismal black void._

_Carrying his clothes underarm, careful not to lose any on the trip back, Grimmjow slowly warmed up to the celebration Nnoitora had in mind. A few hits from a joint and maybe some alcohol, the thought of taking it easy rested well in his aching head._

_By the time he made it back and set his clothes out, Nnoitora was already the bearer of bad news. "Uncle's been gone for 'a week 'n we've bled him dry." He said disappointedly, Nnoitora's uncle usually had a treasure trove of marijuana stashed in his bathroom cupboard and drawers._

"_Eh? Seriously?" Grimmjow shared equal disappointment._

"_Don' matter; just means we're gonna have ta get it the hard way if you catch ma drift."_

_Grimmjow knew all too well that they'd have to rough house some drug dealer around town to get what they wanted, the two of them together were like a dynamic duo – unrivalled. Both of them got ready with untimely speed, Nnoitora seemed quite excited to take Grimmjow out – he noticed something different about his actions, as if he'd been planning this out for a long time and couldn't wait to spring it on him. His jester-like friend always conveyed an impromptu sense of emotion._

_Stars were glimmering like flash lights in the sky, the night was only young and both Grimmjow and Nnoitora had made their way to a familiar part of town. Rather, the back streets were familiar but usually more vivid in the daylight. The two teens sauntered around in various alleyways looking for sum chump to hoodwink for what he had, they didn't have a care in the world for who they robbed. Crystalline blue eyes deconstructed the noir environment, Grimmjow's vision sited a man in an overcoat._

"_Oi!" He shouted out; Grimmjow's voice echoed in an uproar. The man turned his head and faced them, probably trying to decipher whether they were potential customers or not._

"_What can I do for ya kiddies?" He asked docilely, judging by the way the man was shaking – he was probably high off some of his own supply._

_Nnoitora protruded his right arm out in front of Grimmjow, barricading him from moving any further. "I'll handle this Grimm."_

_Grimmjow stepped back. At this moment Nnoitora exhibited that brotherly complex for him, careful not to throw Grimmjow to the wolves, Nnoitora always took the first step. Grimmjow observed from a ruler length away, Nnoitora conversed a bit; it would only take a few quick jabs to his stomach and the dealer would be reeling in acute pain._

_Nnoitora's punch was deadly, and to top it all off – Grimmjow was in the starlight tonight, so Nnoitora had Grimmjow's best interests in mind. The victim dealer slumped to the ground – Nnoitora was always viewed as a relentless fighting machine. Despite his thin stick-like frame, the raven haired teen was fluid and forceful with his arms. A drug fucked dealer was no match for Nnoitora, even if he was older – the odds were unfathomable. _

_Audible grunts of pain were heard. "Ya gonna check' im?" Grimmjow asked._

"_Nah, we got more than enough 'ere – consider it an early birthday present." _

_Grimmjow took the bags from him and pocketed them, both making their way to the main streets. He was still quite curious as to where they were actually going. Nnoitora wasn't usually good with secrets and Grimmjow was no mind reader; but Nnoitora was often cloudless and predictable, however now, it was like spotting a ghost in winter. _

_Invisible__._

_The streets were vivid with neon lights and the setting was almost seedy; 'tasteful' wasn't something entirely in Nnoitora's pallet, so he was confused as to why they were in this neck of the woods; full with nightclubs and bars._

"_Ya see that place ova there?" Nnoitora directed Grimmjow's gaze. "That's where we're goin'." Grimmjow had never before doubted Nnoitora's mentality, but getting into a club underage was almost ludicrous. _

_The blunette unleashed gusty bellows of laughter, his insides almost cramping due to the hysterics. "Ya're real crack up Nnoi but how'n the fuck do you expect to pull this off?"_

_Nnoitora cocked another canyon wide grin. "Cause its ya birthday 'n all I've made the impossible, possible. Follow me."_

_Companionably following behind, neon lights and music were like a siren's call to Grimmjow. This setting was entirely foreign and something he was already enjoying, they walked into a neighbouring backstreet Nnoitora targeted – the idea was still mystifying as to how they would get in; through a back door, maybe? _

_Narrow spaces never resonated well with Grimmjow, still tagging along within the slender confides of the two cobbled walls parting between their shifty movements. Nnoitora stopped at a doorway. "It's gonna be locked." Grimmjow commented sarcastically._

"_Simple trick of tha trade Grimm." Nnoitora whipped out a thin strand of wire from his pocket, jittering it around in the key hole – the door's click clarified their access. Nnoitora was skilled with his hands alright. _

_Walking into the back room of the club, chairs and various tables were poised around within the darkness. They made their way towards the faint underline of light underneath a door, beats and undecipherable chatter was heard from the other end – they'd definitely struck gold. Exposing themselves to the vibrancy of the inner sanctum of the night club, they entered into a hallway and followed the yellow brick road of cigarette smoke._

_Inhaling the comforting scent into his lungs, Grimmjow already knew this was his belonging. _

"_Keep it cool so it don' look suspicious."_

_Following Nnoitora's comment an icy voice spliced the atmosphere. _

"_No… There ain't nothin' suspicious about two kid's sneaking into the back of a nightclub now."_

_Grimmjow and Nnoitora halted in statuesque form. Fuck… Being caught had not crossed his mind since he had already invested so much trust into Nnoitora's own evasiveness. The two came face to face with a golden set of irises emerging from the congested smoke ahead, Grimmjow had never seen someone this… White._

"_Well well. Can I help ya two boys or did'ja think you'd have a grand time waltzin' in undetected?" _

_Grimmjow couldn't speak for Nnoitora, but this _monster _was something you'd see out of the Exorcist. Utterly horrifying, and to put the icing on the cake; they were royally fucked on Grimmjow's own night._

* * *

"_So what did you two really think you could achieve by sneaking in?" The man, Ginjo, questioned casually from the leather seat he sat on, arm lazily resting on the crest of the seat – this guy acted like a real dick already._

"_What'n the fuck does it matter to you?" Nnoitora scolded, Grimmjow could tell he was pissed they got caught._

"_This is my club kid, unless you want me to tie ya both up and stick ya in a room for a few of my friends to beat the snot outta ya, I suggest you keep quiet." He deadpanned, the threat was laced with a callous promise in his tone._

"_Now then, should I call your parents?"_

"_Tch, like they'd care." Nnoitora huffed, he was right, for him at least._

"_I was trying to be nice, but if you insist I'll just bring the police down here." Ginjo grinned, this nightclub manager was a real prick – both of them couldn't afford any affiliation from the cops after being caught for underaged drinking a year ago._

"_Like fuckin' hell you will."_

_Nnoitora was incessantly rampant, he hated the police and Grimmjow could already tell he hated this guy. It would've been easier if they just accepted punishment anyway, but he really wanted to avoid the entire phone call to his mother. Like that'd go down well._

"_Ya might wanna watch it punk, Ginjo's not in a real good mood." That icy laugh sent chills down Grimmjow's spine, this guy was a monster out of a horror movie, just looking at him made Grimmjow ail in disgust._

"_What's your deal white freak?"_

_The kid who Grimmjow heard Ginjo call Shiro, recoiled; he looked shattered._

"_Listen here you lanky fuck, I'm gonna throw you out on your asses now and if I ever see you again I'll kill ya." He pointed his index finger at Nnoitora, the gesture acted as a promise. __The entire room was discomforting, even that white haired freaks lopsided grin was all knowing of the fact that he had his boss fighting his own battles.__ Ginjo called for security and both Nnoitora and Grimmjow were dragged out like a sack of potatoes and thrown out onto their behinds as promised._

"_Fucking cunt." Nnoitora rambled._

_"If I ever see you two again, you'll be walking into your own graves."_

_So much for the good night Nnoitora promised; at least they still had their weed._

* * *

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think, things will start to heat up again soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

Thank you to honeyMellon for helping me organise this chapter.

* * *

"Doctor Kurosaki." A sugary sweet voice called him, Ichigo had almost dozed off again. Tuesday was a long stretch from his weekend, but Ichigo was certain he'd been suffering the effects of a restless sleep. He kept telling himself he was fine, but night times seemed to worsen the anxiety he suffered through; it was almost pathetic to suffer through demons of his past. The time passed since then though, was oceans apart from the present.

"Yes Doctor Unohana?" He asked, the woman had exceptional patience when it came to him – his own performance had been ordinary to what it usually was in recent days.

Doctor Unohana tilted her head to the side with a whole hearted smile. "You seem a little vacant today, is everything alright?" The motherly Doctor always exhibited care for Ichigo, even in this profession – Doctor Unohana had her priorities ironed out when working in a prison.

"Everything's fine, I'm just a little tired. Nothing I haven't handled before."

She pursed her lips, Ichigo's own reassurance was almost feeble against a woman with such wisdom. If his perpetual scowl didn't work as a bargaining chip, then nothing would.

"Perhaps you should take a seat for a moment."

Her voice was sweet, but when making a _demand _like this; the seriousness was laced within her undertone.

"I'll be fine, really!" He could already see the smile fall flat off her face.

"Take a seat please Doctor Kurosaki."

Without disobeying his senior any further; Ichigo prepared for the worst, was he going to be lectured by her?

Seating himself, Doctor Unohana followed suit, pulling out a chair in front of him; it felt like therapy with a counsellor. "Doctor Kurosaki, I've noticed over the past few days your focus has been almost absent when performing duties."

Ichigo blinked.

She continued – "I've always expressed concern for my co-worker's well-being whether it's personal or work related. So if you are being troubled by something you'd like to talk about, I will always be available Ichigo." A pleasant smile returned to her face, Doctor Unohana's behaviour was almost a polar shift of happiness to a domineering sense of self. She had always been complexly intelligent in regards to the feelings of inmates and workers alike, Doctor Unohana was a true mastermind.

"Uh, everything is fine I swear. I've just been having a hard time sleeping that's all, nothing unusual for me when the weather heats up." Ichigo said while following up with a nervous chuckle, she definitely looked unfazed.

"I will take your word for it then."

Ichigo inwardly sighed with relief – "Thanks again Doctor Unohana, but if you don't mind – I will take these slips to the guard station now."

Doctor Unohana nodded. "Very well then."

Grabbing the slips, Ichigo headed towards the station's exit; his superior's voice piped up from behind. "One more thing Ichigo." She said softly – Ichigo rooted himself in between the door frame, he cocked his head to look at her.

"Perhaps tackling things head on like your father did, wouldn't be so bad in the long haul." She smiled knowingly, Ichigo nodded in compliance. Like his father? Ichigo chortled; approaching a situation like _that_ babbling buffoon, who was the living hyperbole of manliness and immaturity? The idea was kind of comical, his father was almost always incapable of approaching any situation normally, and there was no way Ichigo could see himself coming face to face with the inmate Grimmjow, like a brain-dead animal. Maybe in an alternate universe where up was down and left was right, sure Ichigo would have all the confidence in the world to approach Grimmjow then.

He was appreciative of Doctor Unohana's generosity and kindness, but Ichigo was not his father and after they flat lined during Ichigo's second last year of University – his support network was severed. If there was one thing he learnt from him though, and he would agree with Doctor Unohana on – was that maybe tackling Grimmjow head on the _right way_, would get him somewhere. Ichigo never had foresight, he made that mistake four years earlier – but laying the cards on the table and sorting out the odd pairs would accomplish something.

Unlike last time.

Not dwindling on distasteful thoughts any further, Ichigo headed down to the guard's station. The only inconvenience in going there directly from the Doctor's station; was you'd have to use the stairs from the lower floor since it backed onto the Doctor's station from the other side. Ichigo had re-established confidence to roam the halls during lock down, and after the last leaf of Kensei's patience shrivelled up and died – all prisoners were penalized for the duration of the Warden's temper.

Trudging down the stairwell, Ichigo headed along the soundless hallways – his own footsteps coating the silence. "Hey Ichigo!" Renji's voice boomed, he stopped.

"Renji?"

"One'n only kid, what are ya up to?" He questioned, for someone complaining about how bored he was during the lock down, Renji looked awfully satisfied with a coy smile plastered on his lips.

"Guard station. Doctor Unohana came in and we were sorting through medical slips and provisions that Kensei wants filed in the guard station for future use."

"So you actually did somethin' today?"

Ichigo scoffed while moving along, Renji followed close beside."So where'd you come from?" Ichigo asked, he was generally curious when it came to the things Renji did. He always had a distinct routine when dealing with the _issues_ in the Soul Society after working here for three years.

"Isolation. Some of the mutts in this place needed to be kicked in'ta line, so I locked 'em up and threw away the key."

Renji had always exerted a great deal of authority when it came to the trash he called '_inmates_'. It was almost as if he got a great deal of satisfaction when he took control over the inmate's lives, dictating their own behavioural patterns. It was no secret to Ichigo, Kensei or any other prison guard or inmate in this place, when it came to Renji's plan of attack. He would happily fire a few punches into a prisoner's stomach or face, if they stepped out of line. Even if it was only trivial, some of the maltreatment Ichigo's patients suffered through – were often escorted to the Doctor's Station because of Renji's own disgust. He never questioned Renji's actions though, after their long winded discussion on the true value of prisoners, Ichigo realised his own morals were poised at the opposite end of the spectrum. Ichigo wanted to help redeem the inmates in any way he could, where as Renji was brash and crude. Ichigo was no counsellor nor was he a therapist, but the inactive desire to further communicate with what he considered the misunderstood, went unheard in the Soul Society.

"Earth to Ichigo?" Renji tuned into his thoughts – "You okay bud?" His own indulgence was somewhat comforting to Ichigo since he'd been without that in recent days.

"Yeah I'm fine, really, just thinking." Ichigo brushed him aside.

Even to Renji, a person exceedingly dynamic, was able to see through Ichigo like a thin sheet of glass. Renji wasn't entirely dimwitted when it came to emotions, but Ichigo doubted whether he knew the entire extent of what was coercing him. This was just another problem he carefully stored behind the brick wall that was his scowl.

"Hm? Anyway, ya think ya could do me a favour in the next couple of days or so?

"What kind? If I remember correctly, the last time I did a favour for you I –"

"Yeah yeah, you didn't realize what ya had to do. Don't worry, I just need you to check on someone in isolation, it'll be different this time I swear." He smirked, somehow Ichigo was still distrusting.

"What exactly am I checking on?" Ichigo questioned curiously, it was uncommon, if not against the entire prison procedure to have an inmate confined to isolation without a Doctor's examination prior to their isolation.

"Just a 'couple of scratches and bruises. Kensei or Unohana should've informed you of the little outbursts we had yesterday right?" Before Ichigo could confirm this, Renji continued – "Well a few of 'em bit a little too hard and as I said, we threw away the key." Renji laughed, that satisfaction returned.

Ichigo nodded in compliance, if it was anything serious Renji was good willed enough to inform him before hand.

"It's no one ya have to worry about by the way." He said while both men crossed into the guard station. Renji's meaning was clear, he was there the day he had his altercation and he had also stuck by him during his panic. But that had been weeks ago, there was residual anxiety in the Soul Society now, and at home Ichigo was coaxed by the conflictions of his past, but for the most part Ichigo was fine. The memory of those vacant blue eyes though, screamed Grimmjow's agony. Ichigo could tell he'd been broken down and built up, only to self-destruct again. Grimmjow was the one person the Doctor truly feared, those devoid crystalline blue eyes; a living reflection of his hardship. But at the same time, Ichigo knew he couldn't ignore the turbulent siren call that was signalling him through Grimmjow's eyes.

An un-hopeful beacon of disbelief and distrust, Ichigo _wanted_ to protect him like everyone else.

Sorting through medical files and filing the various names into their respective sections, Ichigo took site of Grimmjow's own name listed amongst the other paperweight. A thought dawned on him like a rising sun – "Renji!" He called out, alerting the prison guard lazily slumped on a seat.

"What?" His response was disoriented, Renji was definitely bored during a lock down of this magnitude.

Walking over, Ichigo had a selfless smile on his face. "I've got a favour to ask _you._"

Perhaps tackling things head on, in Ichigo's own way, wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

Disbelief was a common occurrence throughout his own life. Thinking back, Shiro could only ever count two people off his fingertips – that actually put faith in him.

Those two also eventually, loved him.

Even if this love was only for a time, Shiro had naively conjured up a protective bubble of sorts that safeguarded him from the inhumane shackles of prejudice. However, buying into the propaganda of common hopes and trust was Shiro's Achilles heel – the albino's own pressure point. From the moment his first breath was taken, life had never been a Sunday stroll in the park. In fact, _his_ life had been the reprieve of unhappiness; withering away in a cold, dank lifeless cell for the amoral afflictions society had done wrong by him.

Disbelief was an underlying force that warranted him no well being – his own insecurity that allowed him to foolishly trust another.

The truth of the matter was; Shiro had _always_ been innocent.

Innocent in the sense that everything he'd done was a camouflage for his own weakness. Never before had he belonged; not with his parents, not with his own peers – societies own discord was the true reason for the destructive turbulence he lived through. And that disbelief Shiro lived, was his own willingness to trust another, and eventually lead to being crushed by their hateful tidal waves that corroded away his own security like acid.

Prison life was just a constant reminder of this, of every _mistake_, summary or indictable; which initially landed him in incarceration. And to make matters worse, he was constantly struggling to share the reprimand of his convictions while the third person Shiro thought he could trust – shut down on him five years prior, and mocked him even now.

Shiro's solitude was always without Ginjo's comfort, or the one woman that once substituted his mother. What made matters worse was Shiro's own anomalies, the differences that provoked even the authority of the Soul Society into harassing him further. Particularly, that red headed prison guard he despised and cursed. Renji Abarai had it out for Shiro and even said _his own_ authority, would be Shiro's living nightmare in solidarity. He had always been under the guard's hawkish sight, targeted like a honing missile set to fire. Shiro knew his threats weren't idle, he had suffered the epitome of hardship and abuse, even when protecting his own insecurities – but Renji's abuse was far more impacting.

One microscopic hair out of place and the calloused prison guard would drag him back into isolation, and '_teach him another lesson._'

Shiro's happiness waxed and waned like the phases of the moon… Soul Society Correctional prison, the idea of that was simply ludicrous. Shiro's own tongue was wrought with the bitterness of decaying fleshly memories, an imposition of all the mistakes that pained him. He wanted to believe his release would be joyful after a long winded confinement, and Shiro definitely wanted to believe he'd also have someone waiting on the other side – ready to aid his constant suffering since being confined.

But that would be another well constructed lie, solely built off the disbelief in his heart – like millions of glass fragments shattered over the pavement.

Waking up to live was almost sickening.

Shiro tried to stoke the previous connections with the two that resented him – but the one other Shiro was roofed with then…

And now…

Stole that chance away from him.

* * *

**Thank you to all the feedback I have been getting so far. This chapter is the shortest yet, mainly because it flowed better without what I'd originally written. Hopefully the foreshadow I got across was clear, if not please let me know if something wasn't understandable because of the way it was written.**

**Does Ichigo have his heart set on saving Grimmjow now? Thanks again!**

**I've also gone through and re-edited some of the common grammar mistakes from the previous chapters that went under looked, sorry.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

The aching bruises inflicted on his fragile body served as a condemning reminder. Shiro was an exile within his own exile.

The inmate's wrists strained when he balled his hands into tight fists, jolts of needle sharp pain assaulted the length of his arms. There was no equity within the Soul Society – nor was there a true sense of justice amongst the authority. Confinement was a workshop of horrors, not that Shiro's freedom differed too much from his servitude. Shifting completely on his side, Shiro huddled into a ball amidst the isolation cell. The impromptu movement flared prickling pain downside his shoulders.

Stowed away in the darkness put things in perspective for him – it had been a long time since he accepted the kangaroo court verdict that landed him in prison. Shiro had also come to terms with the dislocation between those three he was once close to.

However, Shiro remained stagnant about the reoccurring demon from his past – if his immaculate marbled skin could pale any further, it would have surely been transparent when Renji Abarai tortured him with _that_ name.

Donning a one man show of false sentiments, Shiro attempted to ward off the wretched label he wore as the Osaka Hollow. The physical pain he experienced hardly equated to the bitter means of provoking his inner turmoil when the disabused Shiro was besieged by Renji. Widening those sunken eyes, his gilded irises radiated a faint aura from the tears that cascaded into nothingness. Shiro was asphyxiated by the loneliness that swamped him, body and soul.

Deluding himself any further would just be more unnecessary torment, all Shiro could do was recede into his mind. The lingering blood that trickled from his ruptured mouth depicted a frail image of the past.

The damage he caused was irreparable. Not once did it ever cross Shiro's mind that _he_ was the kink in the bonding chains of friendship – he was the true catalyst for the endless misery he suffered. After being coined a blatant rapist and imprisoned for assaulting the one female that substituted his mother – Shiro fed himself with false emotion to elude the disquieted reality he lived.

There was no redemption; Shiro could never accept the label he bore like a guillotine strung high above his head. Isolation was a bitter means of fuelling Renji's own lustful prejudice against a "_sickly tyrant_."

With a throat parched desert dry and the rustic taste of blood lingering on his tongue – Shiro wishfully prayed for the same means of salvation that cleansed his exterior of blood many years ago. Welding his eyes shut in attempt to drown out the sorrow, a clamor of cell keys was heard right before his unconsciousness.

* * *

_**Osaka Japan 11 Years Earlier.**_

_Friday nights spent at xCUTION had become a weekly ritual for Shiro. The pallid nineteen year old often escaped from his waterish home life, to spend an untroubled weekend at his favourite palmy nightclub – away from his dispassionate father. Shiro no longer had time for that bastard who expressed an outlandish care and gratitude towards his only child, all Shiro needed was Ginjo._

_A man whom adopted _more_ than just a custodial role over him._

_Initially, Ginjo was the type of individual that existed in vivid fantasies and fairy tales. Never did Shiro actually believe a man of his calibre with tan skin, a retroactive fashion sense, a colossal figure and comforting arms – could soothe each woe and sorrow from his mind with the ease of a touch._

_Ginjo was his prince charming and xCUTION was his haven. All negative elation was deserted in his kingdom._

_The night was frigid, but Shiro had high hopes traversing the _same right turn,_ towards Osaka's nightclub district. This was his stairway to heaven, a yellow brick road that lead to the one place which offered him asylum from the world. Each week Ginjo arranged to meet Shiro at the back door entrance of the building, to avoid any wandering eyes falling onto his club. It was easier to smuggle a minor in this way, despite Ginjo's consent, the authority wouldn't bode well if he were caught with a kid in his club._

_Winding a path around the usual clutter of bodies lurking the boulevard, Shiro ransacked the front pocket of his zip-up jacket. Fishing out an unpackaged cigarette and lighter, he ignited the end of his heavenly nicotine and inhaled the blissful warmth into his lungs. The sweltering air was soon dispersed by the aromatic warmth of his cigarette smoke, exhaling, Shiro was just a few minutes away. _

_Like an espionage, Shiro remained covert amongst the crowd and pulled into an alleyway on his adjacent right. The familiar concrete skeleton of xCUTION stood tall in the visible light. Striding closer and closer to the rear entrance he arranged to meet Ginjo at, an involuntary smile fell upon his lips. _

"_Hey old man!" Shiro shouted with mirth, he watched Ginjo's statuesque form burst into life from beneath the grunge lighting. Taking one last draw of his cigarette, Shiro cast it aside and covered the remaining distance between them._

_Ginjo chuckled while unfolding his arms to welcome Shiro in a long awaited embrace. "Old man huh? Is this what I've become now?" He questioned with casual rhetoric, his lax voice was tantalizing. Quickly moulding himself to the frame of Ginjo's body, the two pulled each other into a prison of arms – locking each other in place._

"_Naw… Ya know you're not that old." Shiro defended softly, relaxing his face into the crevice of Ginjo's neck. The familiar tickle of fur from Ginjo's trademark leather jacket, bought the endearing smell of cologne to Shiro's senses. Without breaking a sweat, Shiro separated their contact and directed his vision onto Ginjo's smooth angular face. An easy smile broke onto Ginjo's lips as he lowered his forehead onto Shiro's own._

"_Hey…" Ginjo said lowly. Without a second thought, both lips gravitated towards each other like positive and negative charges. The contact of Ginjo's silken lips instantly superheated Shiro's blood; he hummed gracefully as butterflies ransacked his stomach._

_Ginjo's hands gently parted Shiro' away; he ran both thumbs over the crest of his cheeks. They stared into each other with deep intimacy. Since he met him, Shiro knew the retroactive club owner had an affinity towards the complexion of his otherworldly eyes. Despite Shiro's devoid, shadowy appearance of a human, the time he spent with Ginjo made him value his true self worth. He no longer tread lightly amongst the broken glass he once walked on, being with Ginjo made him feel more human than human._

"_C'mon, let's get inside and you can fill in on everything I've missed out on." Ginjo prompted with a wholehearted grin. Wrapping his arm around Shiro, the apex of his chalky white skin crawled with high spirits as they sauntered into xCUTION._

* * *

_The two spent almost an hour cooped up in Ginjo's office, Shiro prattled each second away while Ginjo listened with open ears. "How's school by the way?" He prodded with intrigue, Shiro's schooling was a topic of interest for Ginjo – the nightclub owner had catlike curiosity for his grades._

_Cocking his head to the side, the pallid teen raised a brow. "Schools school, ya know? Nothin's changed I guess." He replied with a flat tone. Shiro was never a big talker on the school subject; Ginjo often became assertive if trouble found him there. Before any further questions were asked, an impromptu knock struck the door._

"_I'll get it!" Shiro blurted in a jolt of muscle contractions – inwardly relieved that he'd escaped Ginjo's mother hen attitude._

_Swinging the door open, a stern vocal penetrated the room. "Ginjo-san!" Jackie Tristan, xCUTION's floor manager stormed past the pallid teen in a flash of colour. The European woman centred herself in front of Ginjo's desk, rooting both hands on her hips, Shiro boldly noted the usual macabre jacket and heirloom boots she wore. xCUTION's floor manager had a deadly prowess, nothing escaped her hawkish vision._

"_There a problem Jackie?" Ginjo asked perplexed while pursing his lips, Shiro observed the man's body language carefully. If Jackie had consulted Ginjo directly, something was definitely afoot._

_Shaking her head, she eyed Ginjo carefully before breaking the bad news. "I've been informed that the police will be arriving for an inspection, apparently someone has been distributing illegal narcotics inside the club."_

_Ginjo's eyes protracted the size of watermelons, breaking from his desk, the man shot up and roared in fury. "In my fucking club?" Silence coerced the room, Shiro was vexed by Ginjo's anger. "Jackie, return to the floor I'll be there shortly." He ordered with a simmering rage. With no more questions asked, Jackie departed and closed the door behind her, Shiro awkwardly coughed to ripple the silence._

_After watching Ginjo fondle with the knick knacks on his desk, he finally took note of Shiro waiting patiently for him – the teen knew he hated dealing with the police in this city. "Hey…" He said, walking over and placing his arms on Shiro's shoulders. Dull amber irises took sight of Ginjo's face. "We're gonna have to cut part of our night short Shiro, I'm sorry." He whispered apologetically –"Things won't end well if the police find you here. You've got the key to my apartment yeah?" _

"_Yeah, I got it. I'll meet ya there I guess." Shiro replied with dull optimism. A flush of warm breathe resonated from the nape of Shiro's milky white neck, up to his lips._

"_Such a smart guy." Ginjo remarked with a haughty chuckle, the tingling sensation of Ginjo's own mouth left Shiro on pins and needles. "I'll see ya in a bit okay? Let me take care of business first, stay safe!"_

_Shiro nodded in acceptance – there was no way he'd put Ginjo and his business in jeopardy by poking around the background of the club with the police leading an inquisition. His icy voice bid Ginjo farewell as the teen left the office. Sauntering out the rear entrance of xCUTION, Shiro cloaked his ashen hair with the hood of his jacket and slipped into the veil of Osaka's shadowy streets. Frigid air assaulted the crest of his nose; chills soon replaced the warm contact he and Ginjo shared. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Shiro kicked off with haste – the glacial wind was stifling. Moving along the footpath towards Ginjo's apartment, the retrograding echo of music could be heard from behind. Night time in the Osaka suburbia was dismal, the lacklustre amount of traffic made it perfect for Shiro to avoid any unwanted conflicts that more than happily walked his way._

_With his head held low, Shiro huddled closer to his body in attempt to seal off the cold. It sucked that he had to wait for Ginjo at his apartment alone, but Shiro knew beggars couldn't be choosers and he was truly grateful to spend the rest of his frosty night with Ginjo. Especially when the thought of what they _would _be doing ignited the folds of his body._

_Making an acute turn to the right, Shiro found himself knocking heads with something hard. Due to the sudden lack of coordination, Shiro spiralled downwards and landed on his backside with a profuse thud. Wailing an audible 'shit' beneath the shadows, his senses were met with a more than anxious, womanly voice._

"_I'm so very sorry, are you okay? Here let me help you up!" She babbled incessantly, before Shiro could even mobilize, the teen was pulled up onto his feet and into an imprisoning hug._

"_Sorry, sorry I'm so very sorry I hope you're okay?" The feminine voice squawked as she crushed Shiro tightly in her chest. It was suffocating in the most torturous of ways, attempting to peel away from the woman's vice – the struggle only made things worse._

"_God damn, l-let go of me woman!" _

_Before he could take one last dying breathe, Shiro's respiration returned as his oesophagus was no longer constricted by her grip. _"_What the hell were ya tryin' ta do to me lady?" He stumbled backwards, ranting at the woman – her face was trouble as more bad news followed._

"_You're bleeding!" She interjected Shiro's rave, pointing at his face. Bringing two fingers to the trough of his nose – like an ink mark, crimson liquid stained Shiro's blanched hand._

"_I'm so sorry, I was trying to get home as fast as I could and I didn't mean to run into you and…" Before she could even finish her incessant plea of forgiveness, Shiro growled while pinching the crest of his nose._

"_Fuck, alright do ya have anything ta stop the bleeding?" __With involuntary movements, Shiro found himself hurrying along the darkened street to God only knew where. "Where'n the hell are ya taking me?" He questioned the unobvious._

"_I live up ahead, I can clean your face up there. My names Nelliel by the way, but you can call me Nel." His attacker now dubbed Nel said delicately while Shiro was resentfully dragged along, trying his best not to bleed out on the road._

* * *

The vivid aura of light bombarded Shiro's photosensitive eyes. His body felt frail and eyes were heavy, the comfortable atmosphere was an improvement from before. The idle murmur from an unknown hardware filled the silence. Wondering where he was, Shiro attempted to shift onto his side – only to be hindered by the radiating ache in his upper back. In attempt to compensate the pain, the inmate let out a spine tingling screech, Shiro wondered just how much _anger_ was taken out on his body.

Footsteps scrambled over to the inmate, warm flesh made contact with his arm, Shiro recoiled with a lungful of air.

"Hey, take it easy." A perturbed voiced ordered, the inmate stilled while a hand weaselled its way under his back. "Do you want me to help you?" The palsy voice offered, unable to conjure any cohesive answer, the enfeebled Shiro grunted a chalky yes. With a swift movement, Shiro found himself gently lying on his left shoulder – the pain was only a bare minimum compared to his independent efforts.

After carefully letting his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, it was no slap in the face to Shiro that he wasn't in the isolation cell any longer. Taking in the environment he currently dwelled in, the space seemed oddly cramped with a curtain divider obstructing the entirety of the room. Come to think of it, this place was strangely familiar to Shiro.

"Are you comfortable Shirosaki?" A doting voiced questioned him.

With a barely audible voice Shiro piped up. "Whe-where…?" The inmate's watery questioned trailed off in a daze.

"You're in the infirmary now, try and rest yourself okay?" The apparent Doctor ordered with a warm tone, it made sense now – the white ceiling, narrow space and the familiar sterile scent of the ward should have been a real eye opener to anyone. After sustaining the magnitude of his injuries, of course Shiro would end up here out of all places. Not that he was expecting someone to rescue him at all, but Shiro was inwardly grateful to awaken here and not the other abyss he was condemned to.

Due to the blurriness of his vision, Shiro could only identify a few fragments of the Doctor that was silently observing him from afar. "That was one hell of a brawl you got yourself into." The Doctor sounded unimpressed – "But I'm glad I found you when I did though, any longer in there and your injuries would have become quite the problem." He further divulged as Shiro's mind struggled to decode what he heard. It figured though, that ruthless guard was indifferent about each prisoner here– but Shiro seemed to be an exception. He was a thorn amongst flowers, an unredeemable rapist who was not tolerated by Renji Abarai in _his_ prison.

"H-hey Doc, you think ya could lower the brightness in here? My eyes are killin' me."

His fleecy requested was granted as the Doctor returned from behind the divider and sat down at the end of the gurney. A short silence ensued between the two; he could feel the man sleuthing him out like a detective. That idle hum occupied the canyon wide silence between them, a few moments later the Doctor spoke up. "I know this place isn't a playground and I'm definitely no counsellor, but if you feel the need to talk." Shiro's disembodied laugh ruptured through the man's sorry speech.

"What makes ya think you wanna listen to the problems of a rapist?" He spat with colossal disgust. Not a single person lent him an ear after he was convicted as a sex offender five years ago. Shiro didn't know if the Doctor was being humorous or making light of the situation, but he remained indifferent to the man's sympathy.

"I was only trying to help." The Doctor defended. Shiro tried his best not to rouse further pain by cackling at the foolishness of what he heard.

"Help huh? You really are somethin' Doc. What makes ya think I can be helped? I'm nothing more than a shell of a person, a hollow. Do ya seriously wanna listen ta the problems of a rapist? An animal who forced themselves onto another for sexual pleasure, is that what ya really wanna hear?" He spurned with sarcastic rhetoric, his story would be unbelievable to the man anyway. Not that he'd care at all, no one ever did. Minutes walked by as Shiro waited thoughtlessly for a response. It wasn't like the Doctor's words fazed him at all; it was fruitless to even pay half a mind to what the man said.

"Five years ago you said you were innocent Shirosaki, what made you think no one believed you…?" The Doctor lifted up from the chair to vanish behind the divided. "Because I sure did."

Shiro felt like he'd been dropped on his head. Before the inmate could even process the legitimacy of what he heard, the Doctor had already departed, leaving a dumbfound Shiro gaping in awe.

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**Finally. Apologies for the quality of this chapter, thanks again.**


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